Green Eyed Monster
by diva.gonzo
Summary: Ginny's on break; Hermione is visiting while the guys are on a mission and Luna comes to visit. What really happened two weeks ago at the Ministry that had the whole world talking? What set Ginny off? Why was Harry terribly OOC? Huge doses of H/G and R/Hr later on, including an amazing bouncing ferret later. (Rated M plus for language, adult content and situations with lemons later
1. A Case of Wrackspurts

**Green Eyed Monster**

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******disclaimer: Sure I share a name with JK Rowling, but I am certainly not her, don't have her bank account, nor her poise in public speaking. Anything I write in her world is for fun, practice, and to get my own story telling skills back up to personal par. Plot lines might be mine, but the characters are hers for a really long time.**

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A/N: This is a story of friends, lovers, spouses, and one bouncing ferret. This is not a true Hinny fic, nor is it a true Romione fic, even if both figure prominently. This is certainly not Dramione, or Drinny either. This isn't a Ginny/Luna/Hermione femmeslash dash.

This is three friends sitting around as girlfriends do: talking, laughing, complaining, and living.

**Rated M plus** for harsh language later on, along with adult themes, situations, and at some point, it gets rather smutty. **You have been warned.**

A/N2 – Femmeslash only if you put on Harry's glasses and squint really, really hard. – D.G.

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**Ch. 1 – The need for Wrackspurts**

Green flames flared in the fireplace. "Sure, come on through. The guest suite is ready for you. It's not like anyone else stays in there." A brown blur raced through the parlor and bounded up the stairs.

"Who was that? Was it a ghost?" Luna chirped. "I've not seen one since we left Hogwarts last year. Quite conversant at times they were."

"Sorry Luna, but yea, it's Hermione. You'd think she'd have been polite enough to stop and say hi, but even now, she keeps such a tight personal schedule, it's almost comical. When he leaves, she runs here. I don't know what it is about that git of a brother, but she loves him dearly. Brightest witch of our age, and she falls arse over tits in love with that twit. You remember they married back in the summer, right? Of course, you were there dancing with Dean, Neville, and a few others."

"Oh that was most enjoyable. It's a shame that neither one of them are very fond of dancing. They prefer sex instead of dancing. Both of them are outstanding in bed, or out of it."

Ginny nearly fell off of the couch from laughing so hard. "I forgot that you took Neville to your bed that first summer, at least for a little while, and then Dean later when the two of you dated during the school year."

Luna blinked, not ashamed of her dalliances. "Dean is what I've needed these past few years. He helped me learn to live again, and taught me how to laugh. It helped he knew how to give pleasure too."

"Thank Merlin I never saw that!" Ginny snickered, laughing at the unabashed honesty from one of her closest friends. "Anyway, I was saying that when Ron and Harry are out on an Auror mission trip, she stays here with me. She's working in the Magical Creatures Department at the Ministry and also reading Law at Oxford. She earned her moniker, Brightest Witch of her Age. You should see her scheduling. Almost down to the minute, including eating and sleeping. As such, she is uncomfortable being home by herself the first night. She would rather be here, drinking wine with me and reading her books and having someone here who knows what she is going through. We don't talk all that much, but the company is appreciated when the guys leave."

Ginny reached for her own cup of tea. It was too early in the day for anything else. "Speaking of Dean, where is he?"

"Oh, he's in Dublin for a showing. The exhibit opens at half seven, and I'll meet him at half eight. He's so much more comfortable around others when he's freshly shagged. I took care of him this morning before coming here. After opening night, we'll go back to the room we have at the inn and celebrate all night. Sex with him is so enjoyable. You should consider it."

Ginny giggled over her beverage. "Stop. Luna. You're killing me here. You know Harry doesn't like to share!" Ginny reached for the tea pot on the table and poured another cupful of the warm beverage.

"Oh yes, I forget he is rather selfish that way. Once everything was over, he wouldn't consider anyone else but you. I offered, but he looked at me like I was a blast ended skrewt."

Ginny laughed again. Trust Luna to air her attempted dalliances with her best friend.

"Oh, where were we? Oh yes, this is one of the few times I'm home from practice. The winter break just started, and let me tell you, trying to fly fast through ice and zero visibility is murder. It's even worse when we have to go to the media room and have to put up with the likes of Michael at the Wizard Wireless Network, or that daft Stewart for the Prophet. He's so old that they didn't play Quidditch when he was a kid. His idea of star power is looking at the actual stars in the night sky."

Ginny looked and noticed wasn't listening. Luna was staring at the fire, ignoring Ginny. Most people found Luna's moments of silent lucidity bothersome. Ginny grew accustomed to it over the years. Before the war, it was just a quirk of Luna. Once the war ended, Luna grew to trust her friends again – enough to confide in them what happened, and trust them to help her when she needed them. She needed her friends when she got lost in memories. They watched over her when she disappeared in the swirl of waking nightmares.

The nights spent in Ginny's room – the one she shared with Hermione – helped them all heal in various ways. Unfortunately, some scars took longer to heal. Ginny wasn't immune to the necessary healing either.

Ginny waited for Luna to come back to the conversation. It never took long. When Luna looked over at Ginny while she was taking another sip of tea, she spoke up again. "Speaking of Quidditch, I didn't tell you that I was named second position chaser for the National Team. I get to fly for England in the World Cup next summer!"

"Oh I wish they would let me do some commentary for it. That would be considerably enjoyable."

"Luna, you missed your calling as a Quidditch commentator. You certainly have a gift for it. I wish you could do it. I still laugh remembering your analysis. Why not do some commentary for the Quibbler?"

"I might have to, if I return from my expedition from Kenya next summer. I've never seen an erumpet out in the wild, and I intend to photograph them in their natural habitat when I'm out. I hope to see more, and if I do, I can see about an entry into _Magical Beasts and Where to find them_ before the next edition is published. I'd love an entry for Newt Scamander."

"Your day will come. Please tell me if you will be in country when the World Cup happens. I'd love for you to be there to watch it. If you do, I'll get your tickets in our box."

"I can't promise, since it is so far off from now. I'll let you know closer to the tournament."

"Fair enough."

"So tell me about that fight you had with Harry? I've not seen his face look that beautiful shade of Aubergine. What happened that made him look like a Chinese Fireball?"

"You saw that in the Prophet?"

"Of course. Just because I was in New Zealand doesn't mean I don't keep up with the local news when my friends are involved. I was most upset that you were mad enough to slap Harry and Draco in front of Hermione and Ron and storm out. I was most aggrieved that I wasn't there to help you, or listen, or dance with you."

Ginny laughed. Only her best friends would make such silly comments to make her feel better, or tease her in such ways.

"Promise you won't print it in the Quibbler? Oh I'm just kidding," she mentioned rhetorically. "I know you won't, at least without talking with Harry. You know you're the only one he trusts to print his stories accurately. So anyway, the real story is considerably better than what that rag printed. You might as well get comfortable. When I'm done, the story will be worth it."

"Can I blame your actions on the Wrackspurts? I'm sure it's Wrackspurts that infest the Ministry building. Dad offered to have an exterminator come in, but they won't hear of it."

"Sure, you can blame it on the Wrackspurts. I won't mind that analysis one bit. That might be considerably closer to the truth than what that tabloid writes."

"Should I go get a bushel of dirigible plums? That would help prevent any further infestations?"

"No, I think that once I tell you what happened, I think you'll see we won't need them."

Ginny settled back into the couch, waiting for Luna to get comfortable as well. Luna procured a cushion off of the couch and sat down on the floor. She looked so serene, rolling her tea cup between her hands, waiting on Ginny to start the story.


	2. Care to What? Where?

Ch. 2 Care to what? Where?

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"A couple of weeks ago, there was a Ministry function. Hermione asked if I would go with her. The guys were still out on their mission, and weren't due back for another couple of days. She had to be there for some silly reason. If you ask me, she can be rather ambitious at times. Damn politics."

Ginny frowned, thinking on Hermione. "She otherwise hates going unless Ron is there, but since they were out, and I had a night off from practice, I told her I'd go. Personally, I get tired of sitting at home in an empty house too, and I didn't want to have dinner with Mum and Dad that night."

Ginny took a sip of tea. "I think I said something to the effect of 'Let's give them something to talk about.' She chuckled, but said I would be a lovely date."

Ginny saw Luna smiling too. "You know I get rather playful after a couple of glasses of champagne. I see you blushing. I know you remember that memorable night at Slughorn's party. I groped your arse then kissed Hermione. People were still talking about that at Easter hols."

Luna took a sip of her tea. "I enjoyed your hand on my bum. Your caress was really quite nice. I think it turned Dean on more than anything else. He mentioned it later that night when he had me pinned to the wall in the Astronomy tower. That detour to the Ravenclaw tower was most enjoyable."

Ginny grinned in memory also. 'I remember the look that Dean had on his face after I groped your arse. Pricessless really. Bet he wished it was mine.' She glanced at her dearest friend, and grinned. "Nah. You have a better arse than I do now.'

Luna smiled remembering that night. "Hermione is so tightly wound most of the time. It must be all of the faerie dust she bathes in. You would think she would loosen up after a glass of wine herself," Luna said with a far off look on her face. "It certainly looked like she enjoyed that kiss for a second. She must have missed Ronald terribly by that point. But an orgasm from him seems to work better. She is quite nice after he's shagged her."

"Yes, dear, Hermione is quite stunning when she wants to be, but she doesn't twist my knickers that way. I love getting a reaction out of her. Sure, if she fell into my bed, I wouldn't kick her out. Hell, I wouldn't kick both of you out. We'd stay up all night talking, laughing, or crying on each other's shoulder like before. It's not like we've not fallen asleep together or woken to find you cuddled in front of me."

Ginny frowned again. "You remember how brutal our last year was at school. McGonagall didn't bother keeping me in the dorm after that first night when Hermione woke everyone with a nightmare. She quit trying to keep you out of our room after the first fortnight. Once we explained what happened, she relented."

Ginny fell into her own memories that first night, feeling McGonagall shaking her awake, telling her in a hushed whisper that Hermione was screaming and they couldn't wake her. She raced down the stairs in her sleep trousers and Harry's Quidditch shirt to find Hermione thrashing on the bed, trapped in a nightmare. She had broken the silencing spell twice already. Her screams echoed through the stone walls.

The only way that Ginny could get Hermione to wake was wrestling her in the bed, pinning her arms, and whispering in her ear. Ron told her the magic phrase to get her to wake, and it worked. Brown eyes looked around in panic, until they settled on her face. Tears turned to sobs to wails almost immediately.

Ginny held her dearest friend in her arms the rest of the night while she cried herself back to sleep. The next afternoon, all of Ginny's things, along with a second bed, were moved into the Head Girls' suite. Minerva said that if anyone needed allowances in the school, it was for them. From that afternoon onward, the girls has a nightly dose of sleeping draught and Draught of Peace, should they so choose to take it.

Everyone in Gryffindor Tower knew who they were – and that Hermione had returned. No one could know until later on, in a meeting with Macgonagall the next evening, what the sanitized events of the previous year were. The sanitizing was dramatic from what Luna and Ginny knew.

They learned the complete truth the night of Ginny's birthday – sitting at Harry's half-renovated home at Grimmauld Place, drunk on wine and whiskey talking about everything that happened. The guys had already passed out, drunk on whiskey at that point. That was the night the other two girls learned about Hermione's physical scars.

Ginny and Luna wept over them, from the ones on her back, to the burn on her chest, the ugly one on her neck, and the carving on her arm.

Madame Pomfrey knew about all of her scars. She had to. Hermione insisted however that she take an Unbreakable vow against disclosing them, unless an emergency happened. Pomfrey wouldn't do it – but she said her bond as a Medi-witch held her as tightly. That sufficed.

McGonagall knew about the carving on her arm. She wasn't told about the rest, at least at first. Hermione was adamant about that one.

Ginny stared into her tea cup, watching the dregs swish in the bottom of it. "I'm sure you remember that many nights she crawled into my bed crying from a nightmare – or I did. I also remember many a night where all three of us woke up together, at least the first two months of term. You didn't see most of the nights after then since you were sharing a bed with Dean by the end of October. At least you were getting a leg over him by then."

Luna looked off into the parlor, lost in her own memories.

'That last year of Hogwarts for the three of us was something the guys would never understand, and we'll never share. Each of us have something the other understands, if not completely. Luna was kidnapped and held hostage, tormented in ways I can't fathom. Hermione was starving before being tortured by that monster Mum killed. I was tormented at school, almost raped, beaten to an inch of my life then thought my life was forfeit after I saw Harry dead. I didn't care whether I lived or died at that point.'

Ginny sighed. Luna was still lost in her memories. 'Our bond is stronger than most siblings. Fighting alongside one another on more than one occasion forged the bond. Facing death incarnate and living to talk about it tempered it. Soothing each other's nightmares quenched it. Trusting the others to understand your weakness polished it. Finding laughter at the end of it engraved it.'

'The guys will never truly understand. Few outside this house ever would.'

"I'll need more tea shortly." Luna glanced back at me, back from her own memories.

"But I wouldn't lose my mind with her – or you. She's married to my brother, and I'm getting a leg over on her brother as much as I can. You're dating my ex, and shagging him still – so some things just won't happen." I gave my other best friend a rakish grin. "Besides, I rather take my pent up repression and save it for Harry. That man will be the death of me one day. G_d knows that when he's gone more than two days, well, needless to say, we act like Ron and Hermione."

"I heard that!" A reply echoed from the landing. "You act like that's all we do," said Hermione as she walked past the parlor into the kitchen carrying the empty tea pot and her book. "Honestly, we aren't that bad!" said the brunette in a huff.

Luna laughed since she knew of Ron and Hermione's antics as well. The two younger girls loved picking on her for the right reasons. She realized things had changed when she met them at the train platform the first of September 1998.

Of course, most people knew that when Ron curled her toes rather passionately. Parents gave dirty looks for their display, and a few students laughed and pointed. They didn't notice. Ginny didn't either since she was berated by her mother for doing the same thing with Harry behind a stone pillar.

Once ensconced in their carriage, Luna asked rather pointedly, "Is Ronald that passionate in bed as well?"

Hermione couldn't stammer out a reply, and only could blush instead. It didn't help that Hermione got a howler the next morning from Molly Weasley about public propriety. The hall only laughed right along with the girls.

Hermione didn't show her face in the Great Hall for a week.

The two witches saw the transformation of Hermione almost overnight – and laughed when she tried to be her normal self. The time away from him was hardest on her. Ginny hadn't consented yet, and Luna had her dalliances at school. Only Hermione had truly suffered at that point. The war changed her and her friends helped heal her.

Ginny grinned before raising her voice to be heard in the kitchen. "Oh right. So those nights when you were on floo call with Ron talking dirty wearing his oversized jumper weren't bad? You were such a corrupting influence in my life at that point. I think I learned more in our room at night than most of the classes that last year. And let's not talk about those letters you'd never let me read either. You looked like a chimney after some of them you received."

Ginny loved pushing her buttons as friends do. Hermione huffed audibly from the kitchen. "I missed him terribly at that point. There's only so much a woman can do when she has a man in her life. You two witches know that now."

A blush crept up her cheeks. Ginny grinned, remembering that pointed conversation.

"Anyway, Hermione and I dressed to the nines, knowing that our guys were out working, so we said we would have fun tonight, and when they got home, lock ourselves in the bedroom for three days. Hermione was practically gagging for that brother of mine to come home. She won't go into details, simply because it's Ron, that tosspot, but some of the things she has said off-hand make me think she's a freak."

"I am not," said Hermione from the kitchen. "I just enjoy my husband's company in various ways. That doesn't make me a freak." She was carrying a tea pot and a tome under her arm. "And it's not like I want to know about my brother either, Ginny."

Hermione settled into a chair on the other side of the table, taking one of her books into her lap. "Don't quibble, dear, since I know my brother tickles your fancy in many a way also! You get a leg over as often as possible. I should know. I've heard you while getting ready for work and late into the night when I'm studying too. "

"I think we all do," Ginny interrupted. "Merlin knows that there isn't a place that we've not seen the two of you bouncing along like garden gnomes. I can't think of a place we've not walking in you, or seen you shagging: in the kitchen at my training flat, the couch here, the dining room table at the Burrow, and the men's loo at the Ministry. I was in hysterics for days when you told me about the first Hogsmeade visit and Ron met you up at the school. Didn't you tell me that you threw him against the wall in the Prefect's bath after locking it, and you didn't let him leave for two hours? I won't even count the myriad of times that he's tossed you up against a wall. Harry kept thinking that the house was haunted until I told him one night in bed that it was just you two testing out his masonry skills."

Hermione's blush was beautiful to see. Ginny grinned because she loved picking on her sister in law in such company. They loved seeing her back to being Hermione. The first year after the war ended was difficult, learning to live and laugh again. The days were manageable, but they worked to make the nights tolerable.

"Or what about the first Quidditch match? He met you under the stadium and shagged you senseless with everyone else cheering during the match? Didn't you tell me that was one of the best orgasms you ever had? Did you know that Luna? Who knew that the brightest witch of our age had such an appetite for my brother? Only he could coax you into such wanton behavior. I'd swear you're a Weasley under that untamed brown hair."

Hermione went from a blush to mortification. Her face was so red, like a ripe cherry. Ginny took another sip just to hide the grin. "I'm just glad I invested in brain bleach for me and Harry the moment you made it official. I wanted to retch the first time I walked in on you two in Mom's scullery. What was that, the day after Fred's funeral?"

"It's not like you don't for Harry," retorted Hermione. Her chagrin shifted into a mischievous grin. "How many times have I heard you screaming like a banshee, or seen your bum bouncing away on that table in there, or watched your head bob from the couch in here, and seen your breasts bouncing merrily away in the bathroom? I think I've seen your body more than the Harpies' medi-witch has. But that was the price we paid for living here together for a while."

All of the girls laughed.

Hermione grinned. "Too bad that Molly came looking for you on Boxing Day while we were home for Christmas holidays. I think Ron and I heard her up in Surrey at my parent's house that morning."

Ginny blushed from that particular memory – and that next morning.

"But I knew years ago that you were destined to be with Ronald," said Luna quietly, pointing back at Hermione. "You need one another – and are strongest together. I knew he fancied you after the fight at the Ministry. He didn't leave your side one minute while you were unconscious in the hospital wing for those three days. I recall he held your hand most of the time, even when he slept."

"True. You're the one who told me our fourth year that they were soul mates and would be happier once they snogged and shagged. You're right." Ginny leaned forward to Hermione's tea pot and refilled her cup. She gave her sister in law a beautiful smile.

Luna continued. "Anyone who saw you knew he loved you. He just didn't have courage to tell you. His screams while you were at Bellatrix' mercy hurt. Watching him try to tear down the walls of our dungeon with his bare hands was heartbreaking. Him sitting at your bedside for hours, watching you sleep was beautiful, if for the wrong reasons."

Hermione blushed, hearing Luna's compliment. Ginny could only smile over her now empty tea cup.

Luna smiled. "He also didn't leave your side for those first few days at Shell Cottage once we were rescued. He only left to eat and use the loo. The only reason he left your side that first day to check on Harry was that I said I would guard you with my life."

Hermione couldn't reply. "I didn't know that," she whispered.

She knew about that stint in the hospital, but only after she was in the relationship with her best friend and lover. She remembered Ron telling her about those first few days at Shell cottage, when she was still too weak to really get out of bed or get up and moving.

"That first summer was so good for both of you."

They talked about much while she was at school via letters that she didn't share with her best friends. His letters were the only thing that kept her sane those nights after Ginny fell asleep. What little she slept that last year back at school was in his jumper: the one that she took from his hands helped her sleep those cold nights away from his embrace. Sleeping draughts and Ginny could do only so much.

"That first summer after the war, I think I walked in on them probably two dozen times. It's like they wanted me scarred for life. I couldn't find a room anywhere at home where they weren't acting like kneazles in heat. Hell, there were many a time that I couldn't take a walk out to the pond without them out there, or in the orchard too."

Hermione had the decency to blush, and yet her black walnut eyes glinted mischievously. "Oh good grief. If I'm going to get that kind of treatment, I'll go back up to my room!"

"You would have anyway," Ginny cackled as Hermione retreated back up the stairs with her teapot and tome. "You know you love me!" she bellowed before the door slammed shut. Breaking out in a fit of giggles, she reached over and took another sip from her tea.

"You want another pot full, Looney?"

"No, I'm good right now. Please continue with your story."

"Suit yourself."


	3. Return of the Scion

Ch. 3 Return of the Scion

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"So, we were at the party, which was some bureaucratic function for some international diplomat. We were being social butterflies that we can't be when we're on a man's arm, when I heard a haughty voice whisper in my ear:

"_Can I speak with you for a second?_"

"I turned around, being as delicately polite as I've been taught by the team, and my painted on smile falters when I see none other than Draco Malfoy standing next to me. My first reaction to seeing his platinum framed face is to call him a ferret and shove my wand up his arse."

"He is rather well known still, and his name is in the news from time to time," said Luna quietly. "I can see why he has a witch on his arm most of the time. I'm sure he would be a catch, since he is rather fit and slightly attractive. It's most unfortunate that he is rather despicable and quite loathsome."

"You would unfortunately know. I might have given him a second look in life if he hadn't treated me like dragon dung for years, or if he hadn't tried to kill Harry on more than one occasion. That said, I wanted to hex him so bad right there in front of everyone, but I wouldn't do that to Harry. It took everything I had to hold my temper in front of everyone. I'll never like him."

Luna nodded, sitting quietly and waiting for Ginny to continue.

* * *

I forced my smile even wider, and faked a laugh. I leaned over to him, acting like I was kissing him on the cheek and asked quietly, "Why not here?"

Hermione was watching us intently. She had her wand in her hand, dripping it rather tightly. I nodded to her, and she loosened her grip. He glanced at her and glared in her general direction, since he recognized her wand as well. She never did holster it.

Malfoy leaned back into me, speaking even softer. "What I need to say, I don't wish to do so in front of the rest of wizarding society. This is private, Weasley."

I looked at him, trying desperately to gauge his intent. You know that arrogant bastard is so manipulative and calculating. Something told me that I needed to hear what he had to say, and if things went sideways, I'd hex him into next month. I had my wand in my holster on my thigh under my robes which didn't hurt.

I nodded to Hermione, who found a conversation to interject into almost immediately. At least she knew what was going on. He flourished his arm, letting me lay my hand upon his black robed arm, and lead me to a foyer off of the main ball room. We followed the halls for a minute, finding a quiet office. He closed the door, but not locking or sealing it. I should have known better. But then again, I didn't expect everything to go sideways before the night was out.

Once out of the spotlight, we could be our normal nasty selves. The scowl on my face was becoming painful. After the hell that he put us all through, I was sick of that pasty arsed ferret.

"We're here. Speak up, Malfoy. Don't waste my damn night."

Before he turned around, I unsheathed my wand and had it in my hand. It's been years, but I still won't go anywhere without it. I still can't sleep unless it's under my pillow, or on my person. Splinters are a small price to pay for a wooden security blanket. I learned that lesson the first time I was ambushed coming out of the prefect's bath.

He turned around, seeing my rigid body language, and froze.

I'll say this. Malfoy was one cool customer. He stood there, with a wand to his face, and he didn't even blink.

* * *

"Malfoy can be stoic when he needs to be. I just think he's intimidated by most strong people. You would certainly be considered such Ginny," said Luna quietly. "I didn't see much from him except that stoicism. There was that one time, but even then it was forced at wand point. He's rather pathetic."

"You would know better than I would."

Luna blinked her iceberg blue eyes. "Sorry about that. Please continue."

* * *

Malfoy blinked. My wand was in his face, ready to hex him to the next realm, and he blinked. He's one cool customer.

"Weasley, put your wand down. I only want to talk."

"And you're a sniveling ferret. What do you want?"

Malfoy almost spoke like a normal person until his condescension dripped through. "To apologize. I wanted to apologize for treating you like a blood traitor slag for years."

I think I was standing there speechless for a good two minutes, trying to fathom why this pureblooded ponce was apologizing to me. I must have looked confounded until I could speak up again.

"Thanks, ferret. Coming from you, that has less value than a flobberworm. Your patronizing will get nowhere with me. You're still a bastard and always will be. Speaking of cowards, I still owe your father the mother of all hexes for what he did to me. Next time I see his face –"

"Shut it Weaslette. That last year – the paranoia, the mania, the attacks, and the carnage – was too much. I didn't have the courage to acknowledge them when they were brought to the manor. I was afraid to make a mistake at that point. My Aunt was merciless when someone failed. She turned her wand on me more than once. I was scared of that formidable witch. I certainly couldn't challenge her."

Malfoy stood there a second. I guess he was trying to find the words to say what was on his mind.

"I hated Hermione with a passion, but watching that bushy haired insufferable know-it-all endure the torture from my Aunt, and not beg for mercy one second made me question what the hell was going on. I thought it was just Gryffindor stupidity that kept her fighting. That look she gave me, right before she passed out, was the only time I saw hatred and murder on her face. I thought she was the most stupid brilliant person I ever met. But I realized later that it wasn't stupidity. It was courage and faith. She believed in what she was standing up for and was facing death in defiance of it."

Malfoy stood there, quiet in his thoughts. I wisely kept quiet too. I could wait him out.

"Having your boyfriend along with the other two save me later – more than once – was enough to make me reconsider that everything I was taught."

"Sure took your sweet time to decide for yourself. Did you have to get your bollocks out of Gringott's to use again? It's been, what, almost three years now? Careful now, Draco. You wouldn't want Mummy and Daddy mad at you. Or did you borrow a real hero's set of bollocks to stand up to your parents?"

He stood there, snarling at me, before he schooled his features. He was obviously well-bred, and his had mother taught him well. If I didn't loathe him completely, I would be impressed. Too bad he's still an arse.

Instead, he hesitated, and I decided to press the issue. I'd been itching for a row with him for the longest time. I wanted to get everything in that I could.

"But I don't think I am the only one who is in need of apology, now am I? Sure, you treated me like a slag, but I'm not the one that was forced at wand point to have sex with you. I'm not the one who had to watch my father be tortured before my very eyes for believing differently. I'm not the one who witnessed my family torture others for the sadistic pleasure of my fucking Aunt."

I screwed up my courage further. "The worst thing you ever did to me was whip me in front of those bastards known as the Carrows. Did you know that I still carry those scars, Malfoy? Shall I remove the concealing charm from my back so you can see the damage you left, scars that run from my shoulders to the tops of my hips? Or should I tell you about my nightmares of what those sodding bastards did to me while under the Imperius Curse? I still have nightmares from that afternoon."

"No, I take that back. The worst thing you ever did was torture an innocent firstie in front of me because I called you a Ponce. That took real courage there, brutalizing a child just to get back at me."

I took a step forward, putting my wand right in his chest. He might have been a good ten inches taller, but I think he was cowering from me. I know my wand was sparking just from my barely restrained anger at him. "The only reason you're not a permanent resident at St. Mungo's right now is that Harry made me promise not to harm you. I said if anyone had the right to exact revenge, I did. Your pretty robes and smarmy arrogance will never convince me otherwise. Harry and Hermione might have stood up for you, but you will always be a sodding bastard."

I have to say, it felt so good to tell that twit off. It might not have been Hermione punching him, or Ron breaking his nose either, but it was so good to get all of that anger I held for him out. If they bade me promise not to hurt him physically, all I had left was inflicting words on him.

He glared for a second, but then it turned to resignation. "You're right, Weasley. I deserved that. But I don't need to see those scars. I still have nightmares from when I had to whip you. I still wake up screaming on occasion hearing Granger when she was tortured. Watching her endure that while I did nothing proved how much of a coward I was."

"Took you long enough to admit it, you prat."

"Shut it!" He growled. "But I need you to understand something. Had I not treated you like a slag – ridiculing you at every opportunity, trying to force myself on you in front of others, whipping you in Snape's office or acting like a bastard – I would have received worse from my father, from the Carrows, and from Riddle. Everything I did was self-preservation."

"You're full of shite and you know it." I called him on his rationalized cowardice. "You can't justify with me since I have the scars to prove it."

For once, he looked angry. Surprising really coming from him. "I was protecting my mother too. She told me after the fact that Voldemort intended for me to die by Dumbledore's hand, as revenge for my father's ineptitude. She made Snape take an Unbreakable Vow to protect me as best he knew how. Riddle didn't bank on the fact that Dumbledore had already planned his own demise – with Snape as his Wizard of Mercy."

"How did you –"

"Harry and I talked few days ago."

"That bastard," I grumbled. "He never said a thing to me."

"That isn't his fault. I caught him thirty minutes before his portkey activated. He literally ran out while we were talking so he could catch his it."

"So – was I next on your apology tour? What about my brother – Hermione and Luna?"

"They're next. I hoped to speak with Hermione tonight, with you present. Would you do that, for her benefit? Can you keep quiet while I humiliate myself again? I loathe shaming myself more than necessary."

I stood there, speechless again. I couldn't control what I was thinking, and my mouth automatically disengaged. "What's your game, Malfoy?"

He snarled, and for once, I realized that I was in a closed office with one of the people I hated. Fear wrapped a finger around my spine. I shivered, having flashbacks from sixth year. He was unarmed, and I still held mine, but the fear was slowly becoming paralytic.

"My game, Weasley, is my own, but suffice to say, when it comes to you, it's Solace. I saw, in the Great Hall after the Dark Lord fell, how your family rallied around one another, even with your brother's death. I'm sorry he died. He was a good bloke, even when he was trying to punch my face."

I was caught off guard, hearing his condolence for Fred. These years later, his death still is a splinter in my soul, hurting at the most illogical times – like now.

"Thank you." I muttered, trying to fight down the tears threatening. I hated showing any weakness to that bastard. So, I turned around. I still listened.

Malfoy spoke up. "I saw the love that your family had for one another, and realized my Mother fought the Dark Lord the only way she knew how: trying to protect me from the torment and manipulations. She knew Harry wasn't dead – and that she wanted, in her own way, to rescue me from that terror. She fought the only way she could."

Malfoy turned around, so I couldn't see the same on his face. I certainly didn't want him to see the tears still running down mine.

"After Harry had to rescue me and Goyle in the Room of Hidden Things, I should have known I was worthless and tossed aside. I was stupid, trying to saddle up to the remaining Death Eaters during the battle. I'm rather thankful that Weasel bee punched me in the face, breaking my nose. I knew later, after things changed, that I was wrong. The things Father taught me were wrong, and I'd have to work my arse off to become the man I wanted to be."

I heard him catch his breath. It was the calm before another storm. "Most of our assets were squandered before the end because of those maniacs. My father was arrested, tried and convicted, to languish in Azkaban for years to come. I accept that. He made stupid choices, and we have to pay for them."

I heard his breath hitch. I stole a glance, and he was facing a decrepit filing cabinet. His shoulders hung in resignation. "Mother is suffering, though. She loved father, in her own way, but she loved me more. She made her choice, and she paying a very heavy price for her choices. Her sister died, the bitch that she was; her husband a convicted criminal; left almost a pauper; and her brother in law and her niece, were killed. Her other sister, the one I hadn't met until recently, paid a higher price, losing almost everyone precious to her. Mother's only solace is that she has renewed her relationship with Andromeda, and she is a doting aunt for Teddy."

That name tripped my wand. I turned and brandished it in Malfoy's face. That ponce better back off. "You leave Teddy out of this!"

The prat snarled in response. "No matter how much you whine, he is still my cousin, in blood and name, and I will make sure that he is not for want."

"I don't see how, since you said you're destitute. Anyway, you don't have to. Harry and I see to his needs, along with your Aunt. They want nothing except the family that was brutally murdered."

Malfoy flinched like he had been slapped. "I know. She already told me. That's the other reason why I wanted to apologize. I wanted to try and make things easier for them. I never knew my Aunt until after the war. I didn't know what she looked like until she showed up that first morning after the fighting ended."

Malfoy stood there, taking another deep breath. "I saw what happened that day, when my Aunt came to Hogwarts looking for my cousin. I watched her walk in, cradling my cousin in her arms. I heard McGonagall tell the entire hall to stay their wands. I heard the anguish when she knew her daughter was dead. I saw you take Teddy into your own, and keep him safe and comfortable during such a terrible ordeal. I watched Mother leave with my Aunt and stay gone for a long time. I knew then that was the first step in their reconciliation."

"When Mother held her hand out, Andromeda took it, reluctantly at first. When Aunt Andy married the mud- Muggle Tonks, Mother and Bella cut off all contact from her. Mother said she was disowned for her act of defiance. They were aggrieved for marrying him, and not that other monster Rabastan Lestrange."

Malfoy turned back around, looking older than his twenty years. "Mother spent many afternoon teas with Andromeda at her cottage. But when Father was forced to turn himself in, Mother went to Andy's cottage. Andy this time took it, and they didn't leave her cottage for a week. It took that long for Mother and Andy to work through their issues. I only know that because Mother left a note with our house elf when I returned from the Ministry. She sent a later owl saying that Teddy would be staying with you and Harry that week."

Malfoy turned back around, showing the fatigue on his face. "Mother came home a changed woman. She seemed almost normal, if you can call it that. She stayed with her sister another week after that, getting to spend time with little Teddy."

He stood a little taller, looking almost human, if that was possible. "I was invited to the Tonks' cottage during Christmastime. I spent a day with my Aunt and cousin. He is a delightful little boy, and I can see the positive influence in his life. He's a good kid. I'm glad that you and Harry are helping raise him."

My cynicism tempered his compliment. Malfoy's compliments for our efforts – and Harry's too – were welcome, if completely unexpected.

I remember that week. Classes weren't due to start for another two weeks, and Harry wasn't due back at the Academy for another after that. Andy asked us to keep him, saying she was going on a well-earned holiday. Mum didn't mind at all. She loved having a baby in the house again. She said it helped her forget for a time, and focus on Teddy.

Damn it. Too bad Andy lied to them for the reason why. Secrets and lies were the norm once again.

"I see the trepidation in your face, Weasley. Don't hold it against my Aunt. Mother made a surprise visit, and it was quite a spontaneous reunion. Andy didn't want Teddy being ignored while they dealt with their problems behind closed doors. That's why she asked you to watch him. Nothing more."

He turned back around, facing me again. "Anyway, I'm not asking for us to be friends or anything else. I am asking for tolerance and civility, at least in public. I know the limelight that you bask in now, and I have social and political obligations myself. If we are going to be bouncing around in these circles the next few years, I want it to be acceptable, and not completely awkward."

I stood there, watching him with cynicism. I understood pragmatically what he was proposing, and saw that there were some benefits from his suggestion. Even scions have their occasional purpose. Manipulative bouncing ferret.

"Look, Weasley. It's obvious that you are the hot social commodity at the moment, and let's face it: Potter will have his name in lights the rest of his life. I'm not asking for anything except a public truce. I want to repair my reputation, and it will do nothing except benefit you even further."

I stood there, letting him sweat at his proposal. It's the least I could do for that prat. "I can live with that arrangement. Can you?"

"I can. I've already told my fiancée about what I am doing, and she supports me completely."

"Who is your fiancée?"

"Astoria Greengrass. She was a year behind you. She didn't fight, but she helped shelter the first years and helped evacuate the castle before the siege started. Somehow, she was caught inside the castle. She broke her leg, and my cousin was helping her when Aunt Bella tried to kill her. Auror Tonks shielded her, defended her, and took a Killing curse aimed for Astoria."

Draco stood there for a second. I watched his Adam's apple move a few times quickly. "Your father rescued her, and took her to the Hospital Wing before seeing to the Auror. That's how we know what happened to Auror Tonks. She is a remarkable woman, much like yourself. My cousin is a hero, along with both of you."

I blushed at his unexpected compliment.

"Yes, I do think you are remarkable. I saw you fighting my Aunt in the Hall, along with Granger and Lovegood. I have to admit, my aunt was formidable, but your mother –"

Malfoy never could finish his thought, and neither could I. Watching Mum battle a monster was frightening enough. That minute in time – coming within a hair's breadth of dying by Lestrange's hand while thinking Harry was dead – still gives me nightmares. Sometimes, in my nightmares, she kills Mum. I wake up screaming from those.

Those nights, when I'm home with Harry, are hard. Those night are exhausting in many a way, pleasant and terrible. Harry makes it better. At least he can soothe away my terror by shagging me senseless. He chases away my nightmares.

The nights when I'm at Holyhead, or out on the road, are the worst. Squeezing a cold pillow for comfort doesn't help. Those nights I cower in my room crying pitiful tears. On those nights, I have no solace for my war shorn soul.

A mind healer can only help so much. I talk with one once a week.

Draco spoke back up, taking me out of my memories. "Anyway, let us return to the activities. If we're gone much longer, Skeeter will probably say that we were having an affair since your Chosen One wasn't here tonight."

I laughed. It was the first time during this awkward conversation that I did so. The whole time with him was surreal. "True. Dear Merlin that would be ghastly and pathetic. It wouldn't surprise me if they didn't. But if they're going to write about us salaciously, let's give them some good fodder for the tabloid section in the morning. Does your fiancée know we came down here to talk business?"

"Absolutely. I left her in the capable hands of your brother Percy when I left. She is most amenable to being a social butterfly when she needs to be, even if she is more comfortable in the potions lab at work."

I turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. "You work? You must be destitute. Where?"

"At St. Mungo's. Astoria's father got me the job there. I actually enjoy it."

"I never imagined you would lift a finger doing a day's labor. My how the mighty have fallen."

He scowled. "Even I have to eat, Weasley."

I shrugged.

I turned, and put my hand out. If we were going to act the part of social butterflies, we'd have to be convincing. "Then let us return you to her arm. I'm in need of another glass of wine this evening. I have much to think about. Oh, and Malfoy?"

"Yes Weaslette?"

"You're still a sodding bastard."

"True. You're still an annoying slag and a pathetic excuse for a Quidditch chaser."

"Seems we still agree on something."


	4. You know where I'll be

Ch. 4 You know where I'll be

* * *

**A/N:** For those who don't enjoy nor appreciate salty blue language, this chapter might be rather coarse and unrefined.

**You've been warned.** - _D.G._

* * *

Draco offered his hand, allowing me to place my arm upon his before opening the door to the office we ducked into. The door opened, and there stood Harry. One glance and he punch Malfoy right in the nose. Before I could blink, Malfoy fell on his arse with Harry on top of him, punching him senseless.

I turned, and there stood Ron and Hermione. He was struggling with his wife, who was desperately trying to hold him back. I pointed my wand, silently immobilizing the combatants mid-punch. It worked.

Another flick of my wand, and Malfoy was released. I left the ferret on the floor where he belonged and moved Harry to the other way. That was one fight I didn't mind stepping into.

"Harry James Potter, what's the bloody fucking meaning of this?"

"I caught you, slag. How the hell could you do this to us?"

The temperature in the room fell to freezing when he said that. No one insults me. "What did you say," I commanded.

"I said you were down here shagging Malfoy."

"What one knut whore said I was shagging Malfoy?"

"That bint Pavarti. She said you left hand in hand with Malfoy forty five minutes ago. I had intended to surprise you this evening, but I see that I shouldn't have bothered."

I motioned with my wand, and pulled him upright in front of my towering five foot five frame. The heels added some needed inches, even if they hurt like buggering fuck. Tonight, they helped.

I pulled him face to face. I felt the unrestrained fury rolling across my face and barely contained raw magic cascading off me. The shaking furniture didn't do that on it's own. No one else in the room would dare pull that stunt.

"Say one more thing, you stupid arse. Do you think so little of me that I would run off to the first swinging dick that comes my way when you are away from home? Pavarti's roommate is Romilda Vane, you stupid sod, the same Romilda Vane who tried to poison you, and poisoned him."

I turned around and looked at my troll of a brother. I'm sure I looked demonic because he flinched when I turned my gaze at him. "After everything that happened, the blimey fucker still doesn't trust me."

I stood there, fighting the rage that was threatening to overtake my control. Nasty little whispers bounced around inside my head, giving me plenty of ideas of what I could do to everyone in the room. Hell, I was even mad at Hermione, who was about the only one who was pretty much blameless in the room. She knew the demons I wrestle with daily. She knew the amount of control it took to hold back the darkness inside.

My self-resolve crumbled, and I knew I couldn't stay there or even go home. I wanted to hurt the gits in the room. I had to burn off my rage before someone got hurt.

'Sod it.'

I turned back around, and got right in Harry's face. We were nose to nose. "Go shack up with that bint since you don't trust me," I growled. "I bet she'd be thrilled to fuck you sideways."

I turned and slapped the fire out of Malfoy. "That's for giving me scars and being a ponce."

I twirled and slapped the stupid out of Harry too. "That's for not trusting me."

I took three steps and slapped Ron for good measure. "And that is for letting him think the worst of me, you arse."

I looked back at the dismayed men. They looked frightened. I didn't care.

"Fuck you three. All you can rot for all I care."

I turned to Hermione still in a fury. She was the only one who didn't say a word the entire time. She's brilliant that way, not interfering when I'm angry. "You know where I'll be, Hermione."

She nodded, knowing not to get in the way of the Weasley Temper. I stalked out.

* * *

Ginny uncurled from the couch, stretch her aching back. She missed flying, and the days she wasn't on her broom were uncomfortable. "Fresh pot of tea, dear?"

"That would be splendid."

"You're quiet. You ok?"

"Oh, just thinking about that day in March."

"Still?'

Luna nodded before looking away from Ginny.

Ginny leaned over and kissed Luna on top of the head before walking into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea.

Ginny turned when she made it to the door to the kitchen, seeing her oldest, dearest friend lost in waking nightmares. She went carrying a soft sigh that didn't travel far past her lips.

* * *

Ginny returned quickly to find Hermione sitting in the comfortable recliner, basking by the fire. She was snuggled under one of Molly's handmade afghans, awash in blues and browns and gold thread. Peeking out from the blanket was a barely discernible R on the front of her jumper, along with a scarf wrapped around her neck.

Ginny placed the tray on the table, reaching across to hold her sister in law's cold hand. "Tired of reading?"

"I'm sick of it at the moment and am taking a well-deserved break. You can only slog through so much Goblin contract law without your eyes glazing over."

Hermione reached out to pick up her tea cup and saucer. Ginny watched as her hand shook, mostly hidden beneath the thin fingertip gloves on her hands. Most wouldn't notice it, since she hid it so well. Ginny knew better.

She leaned over, and poured the steaming Earl Grey into her cup. A squeeze on the hands between her two hot ones, and Hermione leaned back with her cup into the chair.

"Chilly Hermione? Shall I stoke the fire?"

A look passed between them, and Ginny went back to her pot.

"Oh I'm fine. I guess I'm just tired today. I can't imagine why."

"Maybe you're overdosing on Pixie dust today. In mass quantities, it does induce fatigue."

The girls smirked at Luna's quip. "Hermione, you want to tell Luna about what happened after I stormed out of the office? I only know bits and pieces of it unlike you. You might be able to tell her more than I can."

Hermione took a sip of her unsweetened tea, marshaling her thoughts.

* * *

Malfoy stood up completely from the floor, holding his bleeding broken nose in his hand. Ginny's handprint was already glowing on his pale skin. "Potter, you're really one dumb fuck. Had you gotten your head out of your arse, you'd see that I never touched her."

"You're a shite, Malfoy."

"Fine then. Granger, you're the brilliant one. Transfigure something into a pensive. I will pull my memories out, and let anyone watch. Once you're done being a fuckwit, you'll apologize."

I cast the appropriate spell, including the runes for additional safety, and the fruit bowl on the desk turned into a pensive. It was no bigger than a desert bowl, but it would suffice for this one use. I liked it, with the glowing miniature runes across the outside of the glass, wrapping like decoration.

Malfoy dropped his memory into the container while I watched Ron and Harry get sucked into the memory.

"Damn Granger. Couldn't do any better? I thought you were the brilliant one."

Tension blanketed the room with a second coating of animosity.

I turned and glared at Malfoy. Seeing him, dressed in well-tailored yet not the most recently fashionable robes told me much. It didn't matter. I could barely tolerate him in any regard. I know he still loathed me. The feeling was mutual. No matter.

"Why did you come here with her?" I asked pointedly. "I can't stand to look at you, much less be near you. I despise cowards, especially you, Prince of sniveling ferrets."

"I asked her down here to apologize. Satisfied Granger?"

"Far from it, Malfoy. And the name's Weasley, Malfoy. Didn't you get the news? 'War Heroes marry in simple ceremony.'"

"And you'll always be Granger, so shut it. I had every intention of doing so to you and Weasel Bee this evening as well, but Potter cocked that up. I don't have the fortitude to try a third time."

I turned back to the doorway, watching to see if we had any additional company. No one was evident, but since there was a ministry function in the building, anything was possible. I remember Skeeter and her nasty antics.

I turned back to the room, barely acknowledging his presence, arms crossed under my burgundy wrap. "I hate seeing my brother jealous, and my sister in-law furious. Harry might have broken them," I said quietly, "but Ginny was foolish to come down here with you, and you a twit for making such a public spectacle. As usual, I will have to repair the damage."

"Not if I can help it."

"Why are you still here?" I hissed. "Haven't you started enough trouble for one evening? Haven't you made enough of a mess for a lifetime?"

"No Granger. I want my memory back, even if means remembering that Harry punched me in the face. So I'll wait until they return."

We stood there, in the midst of a tentative truce, when Ron and Harry reappeared from the Pensive. Harry fell to his knees while Ron rubbed his shoulders.

"'S'ok Mate. We'll get this fixed."

"How could I –"

Harry turned his face to Malfoy, humiliation burning his face. "I owe you an apology. "

"No, you don't. My reputation as a sodding git has to be upheld," Malfoy said with classic disdain, "and people would love to see us fighting. But I'm not the one you need to apologize to. I'm not the one you called a slag."

"I said that, didn't I?" He looked, and all three heads nodded in affirmation.

"What the hell'd I do?"

"Mate, you fucked up. Simple as that."

Trust my husband to say it in a crude yet succinct way.

The rest of us nodded in agreement.

Harry put his head down, everyone understanding from the noise that he was trying to choke down the sobs that were escaping. Draco flourished his wand, capturing the memory from the bowl. He pressed his wand to his temple and it was back inside his head.

Ron turned to Malfoy. "Malfoy –"

"Save it, Weasley. We'll talk next week, Potter. Go chase your future."

He looked up, and nodded in affirmation.

Malfoy left the office, not bothering to clean the blood off of his face. "Well, we wanted something for the tabloids, and now we'll have it," Malfoy sneered from the doorway. "I hope your tantrum was worth it, Potter. We're about to have a cauldron full of problems."

Malfoy left, bumping Ron's shoulder, leaving us standing in small office holding hands. Harry was still sobbing.

"Where'd she go? Where's she run to?"

I looked at my husband, communicating like we do now. He knew me as well as he knows himself.

"Go stay with Ron. I'll go get her."

"Where is she? Blimey, tell me!"

I looked back at my broken brother. He lay crumpled on the floor. I love him dearly, but some trusts shouldn't be broken regardless of who begged for it.

"I can't. We made a vow to her, and I won't break it."

I turned back to my husband, threading my hands through his. Just the looks and glances passing back and forth were enough for him to understand. His answer was to lift my hand, the one he placed the beautiful wedding set on back in the summer, and kiss the palm of my hand. His simplicity was stimulating. But Ginny needed me more than my husband did, at least tonight. Damn Harry for being a prat at the worst opportune time.

"We? What we? Hermione! Answer me!"

'Serves him right.' I turned back, looking at him. He appeared forlorn, shattered. "Yelling at me won't make me change my mind."

I took a second, trying to think how to keep my vow to Ginny. "Me and Luna. There are times that she doesn't confide in you – or that she holds back what she's thinking. I can't explain it. When you walked away from her the first time, you broke something – something critical inside her. She trusts me, and she trusts us. She doesn't trust you the same way."

I scowled. My anger was rising, and I needed a way to defuse it before taking my wrath out on that git of a brother. "It doesn't matter that you called her a slag. Your stupidity was demonstrating that critical lack of trust."

I looked down on Harry and struggled to find something that didn't sound patronizing. "I'll talk with her. Just don't expect any miracles or immediate results. Not this time. You really screwed up."

I turned and pulled my husband out into the hallway for some much needed privacy. I sure didn't want to be a total bint by snogging my husband to his toenails, not while my brother opened his mouth and put both of his size ten feet in his mouth.

* * *

Ginny and Luna stared at Hermione, who had drifted off into her own memories. From the blush on her chilled cheeks and the redness on her ears, her thoughts drifted to her husband. They knew her as well as themselves. Many nights spent in their suite helped them bond in no way anyone else would understand.

They waited just long enough for the oldest one to get her blush up to her ears before they would wrestle her back to the present.

"Hermione!" they yelled in unison.

"Oh, sorry, where was I?"

"Discussing that prat of other half of mine and his size ten feet in his mouth."

She sat there a second longer, recalling where her story left off. One more blush, and she picked back up. The grin between the other two girls was missed.

* * *

Heel clicks eventually resonated in the hallway. When they were quiet, Ron stalked back in. Two strides to Harry and Ron yanked his best friend up off of the floor, slamming him into the back wall. His face was contorted in barely restrained anger.

"I should put you in St. Mungo's, you wanker. Only reason you're not is 'cause you're my brother. Do it again, and I'll break you. Sorted?" growled Ron.

"Sorted."

Ron released him from his grasp, and Harry slid down the wall back into a pile on the floor. "So bloody stupid," muttered Harry.

"Yea, you are. You know Ginny has a temper worse than mine and Mum's combined. You know better. Now get your arse up and we'll get outta here 'fore the press finds us. Mum'll send a howler when she reads about this tomorrow."

"I'll deserve that. Hell, I might even go over there so she can yell at me personally."

"Even you're not that pathetic. Come on, let's go."

* * *

They left the offices, finding the back exit from the building. Auror training had some uses, like learning how to evade the press. They apparated to an alley around the corner from Ron and Hermione's flat. Harry'd spent many a day trying to convince them they had a home until they were ready for their own house, but the newlyweds wouldn't hear of it any further. The Weasleys moved out from Grimmauld Place after they married once they had enough saved up for their own ramshackle flat. Their reasoning was rather simple.

They were tired of being interrupted while shagging.

Ginny was bad, but Harry was worse. He couldn't help that they didn't believe in staying their own room, or controlling themselves. He loved that his best friends were so passionate for one another. But did they have to bloody well use every surface of the house for their own personal shagging session? He'd seen Ron's arse going to town enough that he could probably tell anyone who asked how many freckles were on that bony arse of his. He didn't want to think of his sister either. Sheesh.

Their flat was also in Muggle London, just two blocks away. They wanted just enough distance to lock their floo if they didn't want to be disturbed. Their flat had one additional bedroom, which was Hermione's library. In exchange for her library, her husband's Cannon's memorabilia adorned the walls of their bedroom.

She thought it was a fair compromise.

Many a night, Ron would find his wife asleep at her desk, a tome hiding her face. She never questioned how she woke in her bed the next morning with her husband at her side. She only made sure to thank him properly in various ways each morning.

There was a daybed in the library, for Ginny's use if she and Harry were having a row. The entire family knew that their fights were traumatic when it resorted to her staying with them. It wasn't often, but the few occasions she needed to escape for a day or two until tempers calmed down warranted a bed for her to crash in. Ron knew that he would be relegated in there eventually, but for now, they were a shining example of honeymoon bliss.

The men had settled down on the couch, nursing mutual butter beers, watching the telly while waiting for some notice. Two hours later, and now onto Firewhiskey, Hermione's Otter popped into the lounge.

"Ron, we're fine, and I'll send you an owl in the morning. We'll be home tomorrow or the next. Ginny is too pissed to travel, and too mad at Harry to not hex his bits off permanently."

"Well, that's that. The guest bedroom is made if you want to crawl into it."

"Nah Mate. I'll finish this bottle and pass out pissed. It's the least I earned."


	5. Pastrami and cheese

Ch. 5 Pastrami and Cheese with a side of Mermish

* * *

A/N: My thanks to those who have read and reviewed, or read only. I will answer reviews shortly.

For those who are questioning - or in some cases, castigating - an explanation is coming in the next chapter. For those who said there was infidelity... well, this story might not be what you are wanting, since the story is more complicated than black and white.  
Infidelity - only if you want to perceive it as such. I write canon - but the characters are human, and prone to make mistakes. I prefer flawed and human to perfection, which my characters are not.

Second: The language in this is also salty. There's a reason why the story is M Rated. - D.G.

* * *

Luna put her tea cup down on the table. "I'm sorry that you had to see all of that, much less go through it. I thought Harry knew how much you love him."

Ginny and Hermione gave each other a look, one that said more than words. "Harry's a guy. He can be stupid sometimes too. Just because my brother holds the corner of running his mouth doesn't mean that Harry's immune to it. He usually just says stupid stuff behind closed doors."

"Dean's pretty good about being nice. He's said a few things on occasion, but then again, Dean is also busy painting, or between my legs to get too upset about things in general. Then again, he's pretty content when I'm bouncing on top of him too."

Giggles bounced around the room.

Ginny sat up from her seat on the couch. "You want something while we're talking? I'm not quite finished with my story. I told you Harry's side, but mine will take a little longer."

"Sure, Lunch would be delightful," Luna said quietly while looking out the window out onto the street.

Hermione was once again buried back in her book. _I'll make her eat some too._

Ginny got up from the couch, and worked quickly in the kitchen. A delicious aroma quickly wafted the room. She returned with a tray of sandwiches and another pot of tea. She worked quickly, refilling Hermione's cup with more Earl Grey, and put a plate on the table next to the chair. Apples, carrots, and a sandwich adorned the plate.

She turned to Luna, and set the plate and pot down in front of her other best friend. "Here you are. Pastrami and cheese on sourdough, just like you like it."

Ginny settled back into her spot on the couch, taking a bite of her sandwich. She stole a glance at Hermione in the chair. She was nibbling on the carrot stick. _At least it's a start._

A quick sip of tea, and she was ready for more.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, I'd stormed out from Ministry, so mad that I would make a Chinese Fireball run in terror. I stopped here to get my Quidditch gear then left for Holyhead. I don't tell them where I go, since it's my get-away place when I need to run my temper out. Harry came looking for me once, but didn't see me that time. He's not the only one who knows how to evade when necessary. Six brothers taught me well.

"Within minutes of racing around the pitch like a rabid dragon chasing a hippogriff I saw Hermione sitting in our family box. She's the only one with the courage to face me when I am furious. If anyone can turn my temper, especially when it comes to the git I live with, it's you two. I trust her as much as you."

"I would have come if you had called," said Luna after a sip of her own tea. "Harry can be like Ronald at times, incredibly cruel and hurtful, especially when he's jealous of you. I don't know if I could have been there in an hour, but I would have come."

Too many kept secrets and too much heartbreak were shared to distrust the others in the room. Ginny reached over, and squeezed Luna's hand. "I thought about sending you an owl, but you were off in New Zealand at the time. It's fine. I'm telling you now."

They went through too much together not to understand one another. "Hermione was there to help since you weren't. She's as good of a listener as you are. Her wisdom is just like yours – rational and honest."

They both looked over at the quiet witch in the chair, watching her reading her legal tome. In her other hand was the sandwich, piled high with pastrami and cheese, mustard and tomato. Their last year at school helped them to learn about Hermione too. Her tears and fears were well founded – and easier to bear now that she had girlfriends to help with the burden. They both grinned, knowing that cajoling the oldest of the three didn't work – but leaving the temptation near her, without notice, worked best.

* * *

"Anyway, we must have been there a couple of hours before I turned my broom to where she was sitting. Merlin love her, she had a book, multiple warming charms, and also conjured bluebell fire, and she was still shivering. At least she was wise enough to go home and change into warmer clothes from the gown she wore earlier."

"My toes went numb minutes after I started and I was so cold my fingers were on the verge of freezing to the handle. At that point, I didn't really care. I didn't have the courage to go home, not after the fight earlier. I couldn't decide if I wanted to shag him, kill him, or both at the same time. If I'd stayed home, I'd say and do something I would regret.

"I flew to the front of the box, hovering in the frozen air. She is rather talented, being aware of her surroundings while engrossed in a book. It's like her brain gets bored doing one thing and needs more distraction. I knew that she was aware I was there, watching her read.

"Go home, Hermione. I'll go back home to Harry when I can look the bleeder in the eyes without choking the shite out of him. Could be tomorrow or a year from now with the way I feel tonight."

"No. I'm here to make sure you won't kill yourself freezing your arse off."

"Well, that got my attention. Hermione doesn't curse, at least where the rest of us can usually hear. Ron says that the only time she curses is when they're fucking. I believe'em. I know you've heard her too. The first time I'd heard it was when we were home for Christmas two years ago. It wasn't the first time we'd walked in on them while shagging, but this time we heard her using that language. I thought she was quoting me there for a minute, which I won't even repeat. Seeing Ron's bony white arse going to town was bad enough, but her cursing too? I needed some bleach for my ears and my eyes."

"She speaks blue when they're fornicating? How delightful," Luna said with a smile. "I speak Mermish at times when Dean hits that one spot, and chant in Gobbldygook after he gives me an orgasm. I've also been known to hum Celestina Warbeck when I'm giving him fellatio."

Ginny fell over laughing. "Mermish? Gobbldygook? When'd you learn that?"

"Just something I picked up the last year. Dean loves it. I'm glad you left him for me. He's quite good in bed."

Ginny blushed, remembering those few dalliances before Harry came to his senses. "You're amazing, Luna." Luna didn't need to know how far she went with Dean back then. She was fifteen at the time, and was still waiting on Harry, but she did learn one or two things.

Hermione was still deeply engrossed in her book, but the plate next to her chair was empty. _Time to pull her out of her reverie._

"Did Hermione ever tell you about the fun filled Friday night before the NEWT's? My brother was quite impressive, coaxing Head Girl Hermione here up onto his broom for a shag above the Quidditch pitch."

Luna's eyes grew wider by the second.

Hermione never looked up from her book. She'd heard the story told more than a few times to other friends, but still lifted her head an inch to listen in.

"It's a wonder that McGonagall didn't kick our High Flyer out of school for that merry little ride. I saw her when she came back into the room. She was walking funny. Maybe she was still off balance from being on a broom for more than a minute."

"Just so you know, McGonagall said that when she was in her last year, she had sex on a broom up above the Quidditch pitch, and got splinters in her knees." Hermione never took her eyes off of the reading, but her brown eyes sparkled in mischief. "According to her, it takes a different kind of courage to copulate that high up in the air where everyone could see us."

Luna's jaw dropped while Ginny was giggling behind her hand.

"She took me aside before the leaving feast and said that she saw us, and that she would have to dock me five points for blatant disregard to my own personal safety. She also said she was proud of me for having the nerve to intentionally break the rules in such a courageous way after everything I had gone through. 'It's a fitting end to your stay at Hogwarts and worthy of one of our Heroes.' Those were her exact words."

Hermione smiled over her book, grinning at her two girlfriends before turning back to her reading.

"I'd forgotten she did that the weekend before NEWTS." Luna laughed. "No wonder why she got top marks on those exams. Dean didn't help me as much as Ronald helped her."

More laughter pervaded the house.

Ginny took a quick sip of tea before she could talk again.

"But anyway, I hovered in place, almost in front of the box, watching her. For everyone else, she is so aloof: prim, proper, reserved, tightly reigned. Sure, she's passionate – You know that – but she keeps it firmly chained. I see it differently. She's like a dragon, ready to unleash fire. She's that way with Ron, whether it's rowing or shagging. She's turned that temper on me once or twice. You heard the second one. I think the whole castle heard that one. Anyway, he's the only one who can tap into that intensity."

"So she took the book she was reading – probably something along the lines of Goblin wars or the History of House Elves – and stowed it in her insulated cloak. She then looked at me with those roasted chestnut eyes."

"Harry's wrong and he knows it."

"Knowing that doesn't fix a thing, Hermione. We were just talking, and he comes in acting a bastard. How can I deal with someone who doesn't trust or respect me? Calling me a slag doesn't even faze me when he doesn't keep faith in me."

"We'll talk more, but not here. I'm frozen."

I laughed and certainly agreed with that. "Come on, let's get out of here. I'll meet you downstairs. I need to get my things."

"Where to?"

"We'll get a room in Holyhead. I know a pub owner who'll let us have one for the night and keep quiet about it. I'm sure the rumor mill is swirling, and if the press got wind that I stayed the night with you, there would be a field day and a larger cauldron of problems to cope with. You don't need that hassle either. Ron'd never forgive me otherwise."

Besides, I still need to talk and I'm too furious to go home tonight and deal with Harry the arse he is."

"Let me send word to Ron. I'm sure Harry's with him, and they're probably both pissed by now."

"Just tell'em I'm already too pissed to travel and that I will be home in a day or two. I'm going to fight with Harry, but if I went home tonight, I'd make a mess of things. I wouldn't be responsible for the consequences since I'd say what I was thinking."

* * *

Footnote: the weekend of NEWTS was originally written by Jesrod82 in her story called Score! I won't go there, since she wrote such a masterful and smutty piece. - D.G.


	6. Whine Women and Whiskey

Ch. 6 Whine, Whisky, and Women

* * *

I flicked my wand, silently reheating the bitter tea. It was hot, and not sweet, but it was what I wanted this morning, to share my bittersweet story with my best friends. One more sip, and I was ready to tell more of the story.

Luna sat there, waiting for me to continue, and Hermione was still ensconced in her book, reading away. I knew she was listening. She hadn't flipped the page in her book in minutes.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Hermione and I had a room for the night in Holyhead. Hermione brought up some quills, parchment, three owls, and I purchased a bottle of red wine. She scribbled furiously, sending notes to the most important people: Mum and Dad; Kingsley; and Gawain Roberts, the Director of MLS. She didn't finish writing until almost midnight. I poured wine for both of us. Firewhiskey would be too much for what was needed: a loosening up, not getting pissed. I couldn't trust myself to get drunk this early. I couldn't trust myself if I did get wasted on hard liquor. I do stupid stuff enough as it is when I'm not drunk on the hard stuff.

"Finished. Everyone we needed to contact and diffuse has been notified. Do you want me to send a note to Harry?"

She closed the ink bottle, and settled into the other end of the couch to listen. I was on the furthest end from the fire, letting her have the warmer seat. I knew she was still chilled from earlier. The red in her cheeks wasn't obvious, but her shaking hands betrayed her frigidity.

I took a drink from the glass. "Harry can stew. He had no right to insinuate I'd been shagging Malfoy, much less calling me a slag. I wouldn't touch the bouncing ferret if he were the last man standing. You know that girls don't twist my knickers in the least." I swirled the wine in my goblet. "Blimey, I'd kiss you again before considering that pasty arsed ferret. Hell, I'd shack up with Pansy before I'd touch Malfoy. She's revolting too."

"Oh that is ghastly!" Hermione grimaced. "Pansy? Disgusting! You must be serious."

I took another sip of the wine we purchased. It wasn't that good, but it would suffice for the night. "So why doesn't he trust me? It's Draco Malfoy," I whined into the goblet of tannic red wine. "He's revolting. I'd kick him in the bollocks before I'd see him out of his robes. He's foul, loathsome, pathetic, and a coward. What could I ever see in that ponce? Hell, you have more backbone than he does."

Hermione tried to keep from choking on her own goblet of wine. "It's not your fault. It's Harry's fault that he doesn't trust. He knows you're beautiful, and quite a catch for him. Being the savior of the wizarding world didn't change who he is underneath. Being engaged to him didn't change that he's insecure, and think at some point you're going to try and trade up from him."

"Bloody Hell, he's all I ever wanted. You know that."

"I do. But deep down inside is a scared eleven year old who still emotionally cowers in the cupboard, afraid that no one loves him. They don't see _Just Harry_. People see Harry, _The Boy who Lived_."

"That's stupid. I don't know what else to do, Hermione."

I got up from the couch and poured a second glass of wine for me. She declined before I settled back into the uncomfortable couch.

"I don't know how I can show him that I'm with him. I'd elope with him tonight if I knew that it'd make a bit of difference," I said after another swallow. "Hell, I'd bond my wand for him if it'd help. It's not like I'm going anywhere else, and certainly not for a poncy ferret."

Hermione took a sip of wine from her glass, turning the conversation back to the matter at hand. "I know that, and you do too. He's wrong, and made it worse by accusing you in front of someone else. I don't know how he can repair the damage. It's up to you to decide how and when to forgive him."

I nodded. I wasn't looking forward to hearing from Mum before lunch tomorrow. She'll blame me for what happened, like the last time. The rest of the family would say something by dinner and the press by the next morning. After the stunt I pulled at the Christmas party, anything that goes wrong is my fault, in the eyes of my family.

"It's going to be a nightmare. I don't know how we'll handle the scrutiny. Harry's fine when we take the piss outta him, but when it's people on the street, he's a mess. He's so sensitive to criticism, even now. It doesn't help he stuck his size tens in his mouth."

"I know. But he's Harry and my brother. He's entitled to be stupid on occasion. All of us should be. But we're held to a higher standard. Being a hero means maintaining a particular image. No one wants to see us less than perfect." Hermione sighed while looking into her own glass. "I just wish he had kept his mouth shut in front of the vultures. Draco was bad enough. I'm sure he was accosted by Romilda and others when he went back upstairs."

Hermione sat there for a moment, watching the fire. "There will be problems, but you'll handle it like you always do, as best as possible. And I'll be there to help as well."

I felt the wine working its way to my brain, turning off the filter that I usually keep on my mouth. "You mean problems like when I kissed you as a joke at Slughorn's Christmas party that last year at school?"

Hermione's ears turned a rather spectacular shade of red from that comment. "You obviously remember that evening."

"How could I forget? I was inebriated, and you were screaming at me. I think all of Gryffindor tower heard that fight. I'm still surprised that McGonagall didn't intervene. It was bad enough to have detention every night for a week for accepting a glass of elf made wine. That wasn't fun to serve in the Astronomy tower when we got back for the next term. It didn't even occur to me not to accept that glass of elf made wine from him. I thought he was being polite."

"You earned it, acting that way. She didn't intervene because I told her I'd handle it. She saw the look on my face. The only thing she told me was to not use magic. That's why the entire Gryffindor tower heard us."

Hermione laid the glass down on the table in front of them. "I know you were playing but I had to tell Ron and the rest of the family before the rumors started. I thought he was going to murder you for that stunt. It was bad enough that he was yelling at me for it. I can handle a row for the right reasons. But rowing with Ron because the stunt you pulled? Merlin, I don't want to go through that ever again. George's gags are bad enough."

I didn't want to admit what was the fallout from that bad idea was. Even now, just thinking about it was mortifying to admit. _Courage. You can admit this, at least to her._

"Daddy was at the station to meet me the next day. No one else came to the station. Just Dad. He told me when we got home I was go to straight out to the shed and he'd be in there to talk shortly. We left before you even were out of the carriage."

"I was wondering where you ran off to. I didn't know Arthur was there to get you. Ron and I left for Grimmauld Place to drop off my things before we went to my parent's house in Oxford. He was furious. He was mad at me for being the messenger, and in a temper at you for doing that. It took all I had to hold him back from going to confront you about it." Hermione took a sip from her glass. "I promised him your father was handling the situation. That's the only reason there wasn't a row with him."

"It wouldn't have mattered if I saw him at the station or not. I did what Daddy told me to do. No one else was home when we arrived, or so I assume. I dropped my trunk at the door and went out there. Sometime later, he came in. When he did, he sealed and silenced the shed."

Hermione sat quietly. I knew she was waiting for me to speak up about those two hours in the shed. I couldn't even look at her. Two years later and I'm still ashamed.

"It's the second time he ever got mad at me. First was because of that sodding diary. Ron would have been a push-over compared to what Daddy said."

The tops of my ears are burning. But if I can't share with my best friends, who can I share with? Harry knew – we talked for two days about what happened. But Hermione needed to know too. I trust her too much not to share with her.

"I've never seen Daddy that angry with me. He's never been that angry with any of us, at least that I can remember. It's also the only time he's used harsh language, at least where I could hear him."

**"_Are you daft? What were you thinking Ginny? No matter. What made you think hurting your brother and your boyfriend was a bright idea? Who dared you to act like a strumpet? What made you think betraying everyone was a bright idea? How could you think acting like a harlot was funny? Hurting Ron is bad enough. Hurting Harry was bloody stupid. But doing that to Hermione? How could you do that to your best friend? Your best friend!"_**

"Me?"

"He said he watched for years, you and Ron, dancing around one another, and that as high strung and volatile as that prat of a husband of yours is, that he takes after Mum in that he would see it as you betraying him."

"He didn't! He doesn't. George has pranked him enough for him to know better."

"He did. He said I was mucking up something that Ron had worked for and at for years – learning how to love someone other than himself."

"Arthur said that?"

I nodded in affirmation. "In the middle of it all, he also asked me what I had to drink that night, to let me think that was a good idea for a prank. I told him and he was even more irate. He told me that there's a reason why him and Mummy don't keep hard liquor in the house of their own accord. He said that Mum can have a drink, and she's a temperamental dragon. He said that it seems that I inherited her constitution for elf made wine. The Muggle stuff is fine, but something about the magic in making elf made wine and spirits does something to us. He said that's why Aunt Muriel is such a mess at family functions – she drinks the magical libations and says stuff she normally doesn't speak in polite company."

_Put the glass down and tell her straight away. _"As much as they love me, Daddy showed me how much I screwed up, and disappointed him. Merlin, do I ever. Mum was furious – but Dad stepped in and said he'd take care of it. I'll fight anyone else in the family, but Dad… "

_Deep breath. It's your best friend. _"It seems that Ron told George who told Percy who told Bill who told Charlie who told Mum. Blimey, Charlie'd been the worse of the lot. He'd have been worse than Mum. But Daddy – I didn't expect that disappointment from him. That was worse than anything Mum and Charlie both could have done. While yelling at me he said how fortunate it was that he handled it rather than Mum did. He said he'd take care of it so the rest of the family wouldn't intervene. By the time Daddy was done lecturing me, I was upset and crying."

_The family saw me when I came in. Everyone was there, except Harry. Ron glared, Percy didn't even look, and Bill – well, I won't even go into that. I ran to my room and hid the rest of the day. I didn't want to see their disappointment – or let them see my shame. Mum didn't bother to bring anything – no one did. They shunned me for my ill thought prank. No one bothered to come up there – Not even Harry. Blimey, Harry didn't even come over for two days, and then we went back to his house and talked. He was hurt and didn't understand either. That hurt worst of all. Looking back, it was stupid. It seemed like a good idea at the time. _

_Of course that might have been the wine talking._

_Hermione came to the room after dinner, bringing me a plate. She never said a word, but held me while I cried. Only my best friend would do that, whispering in my ear that she forgave me for my stupidity._

"It's a wonder that Ron even spoke to you during the Holidays that year."

"He barely did. It took an epic row on Boxing Day while you and Harry were out at the hospital for that problem to finally be fixed."

Hermione frowned. "He never said."

"I asked him not to, at least to you. I knew I screwed up and I said I'd work to make it up to you and him and Harry. I hope I have since then."

I turned and looked at her, seeing her watching the fire. She took a sip of wine, grimacing from the taste of it. "You have, but honestly, there was nothing to make up for. You're one of my best friends, and I forgive you – then and now. We all make mistakes. Some are just harder to overcome and cope with the consequences."

I nodded, watching the wine swirl in my glass.

"But I bet you wish you had talked with Malfoy in a dark corner of the room rather than the offices below."

"How was I supposed to know that you wouldn't tell him first? It's not like I'd talked with him or Ron since they were out on their latest mission. Blimey! I didn't expect him to go around the twist on me. I still don't know what set him off."

"I don't either. Someone else besides Romilda must have said something." Hermione sat there quiet a minute, thinking like she does. The gears in her head run faster than almost everyone else. "I bet I know what happened."

"Well, dear, do share? I'd love to know what was going through that thick git's head."

"I remember seeing Harry talking with Pavarti before he was caught by the Minister. I bet she told Harry that you had stepped out with Malfoy and he took it the wrong way."

"Figure he'd assume the worst. Why didn't you stop him?"

"You know Percy when he gets to talking business. By the time I saw Harry and Ron running through the hall I couldn't catch up 'til I was too late."

"Bah! I wish you'd just tripped them both and saved us the hassle tonight."

"I didn't figure it out 'til just now. Sheesh! Quit biting my head off."

"Sorry. I'm just pissed and mad."

"I know you are. But don't take it out on me. The guys do that enough as it is. I don't need you going all barmy too."

"I said I was sorry."

"Now you sound like my husband: apologizing rather than not doing it."

I glanced at the fire, not wanting to lose my temper any further. At this point, the flames dancing on the logs in the fireplace were about the only thing I could focus on. The wine had finally did what I expected – loosened my tongue enough to say what I was thinking. It also meant that I was starting to lash out at the last person I should have been annoyed with.

Too bad I was also starting to drowse off to sleep on that uncomfortable couch.

The evening was turning into a fiasco, and the only things that were interesting were the flames in the fireplace and the wind blowing by. So, I kept quiet, letting the minutes pass while deep in inebriated thought. Numb and drunk was a relief at this point.


	7. Lessons in Painful Wisdom

Ch. 7 Lessons in Painful Wisdom

* * *

A/N: My apologies about the tardy update on this story. Real life got in the way. - D.G.

* * *

The silence stretched out until a racket of a noise from the window. "Oh lord, it's Pig. I wonder what he wants." Hermione got up from her spot on the couch, walking to the rather cold window of their room. She brought the rather frozen and yet energetic owl into the rather warm room, intending to let him stay the night with them. "Pig, it's too cold for you to go back out tonight. You stay with us, where it's warm. Let me get you some crisps for you to nibble on." She set a few broken ones in the bowl next to him, letting him munch and get warmer.

"What's the note?" I asked quietly from my perch on the couch. My head was fuzzy yet not to the point of spinning.

"It's from Harry. He's begging for you to come home. He probably penned it the minute they got home."

"Well, if he used Pig, then he's drunk and crashing at your flat by now. No use to even consider answering him."

"Figures. Ron wouldn't let him go home. Best mates and all."

"Be nice if he thought of me that way. Instead, I'm the afterthought."

"That's not true and you know it."

I tipped the cup back, draining the second glass of wine. It didn't taste too bad now. "I should, but I'm enjoying my pity party at the moment."

Hermione looked back at me, giving me a dirty look while seeing the anguish on my face. I hurt, but knew that I needed time to work through the problem. It's one of the few things that Ron and I are alike. Sure, she and Ron bicker like two cats in a sack sometimes, but they still felt the intense love and passion for one another. But harsh words from my fiancé, right now, were too much to tolerate, much less accept. I knew that his accusation was baseless but hearing his venom hurt. The vile deprecation from your soul mate makes it worse.

"Has Ron ever said anything like that to you?" I asked pointedly.

Hermione sat there, quiet for a long time. I know Hermione as well as I know Harry. Just watching her swirl the cup in her hands was enough of an answer. I didn't have to see the miniscule shaking to know her answer.

"He did, once. We were fighting, and it was bad. That was the time I stayed upstairs in the small guest room for a week. You remember that? It was about a year ago."

I fiddled with my glass. "I remember that. I remember you stormed out of the house early in the morning, and he came down later in a temper. He got dressed, went to work with George at the shop, came home, argued with Harry for a bit. He insisted Harry go out to look for you, but all he said was that when you wanted, you'd return. That was an even worse fight. Harry stormed up to our room and locked the door. Ron turned on me, making me wonder what was going on. When I told him I talked to you, and that you'd come home when you were ready, he settled down enough to go to bed."

I took a sip of wine to catch a moment. "Ron was begging to see you by the fifth day of my Christmas holiday and you wouldn't open the door for him. I know on the first day, he was being a git. By the third, he was on a rampage. By the fourth, he was begging. Harry said he was horrible at the Academy, and George hexed him once for being rude to a customer. It got so bad we had to leave for the day to avoid his tantrums. I think we picked up Teddy then went to the Burrow. By the time we got home, the two of you were gone and nowhere to be found. Mum sent an Owl the next morning saying that you two were away and working it out. So, what gives? What happened?"

"He yelled at me, and when I came back home, he was still being an arse. Once he quit being a prat, and calmed down instead of yelling at me through a closed door, I was willing to listen. I still didn't open the door until days later. He made me so mad."

"What did he say that set you off?"

"He said that I was pedantic, insolent, and that I was patronizing him."

"He said that? Ron knows what those words mean? Wow."

"He also called me a selfish bitch."

"He did? That tosser."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, we've all called you a know-it-all once or twice. But a selfish bitch?"

"He said that because I told him that while he was in the Auror academy his last two years, I wanted to read Law at Oxford."

"That's really good."

"He was mad because I would be spending the rest of my non-work time studying again. As it stands, we barely see one another for more than a minute a day as it is, with his training and work schedules. It's short-lived, but it'll be worth it."

"Did you explain to him what your plans are? Doesn't he understand that you need that to work towards making real progress?"

"He wouldn't listen, and neither did I. When he called me a selfish bitch before breakfast, I grabbed my bag, and left. I needed time to cool down and think and reflect. So, instead of staying and fighting with him, I went to the Law Library and read. I was there when they opened at half eight until half eleven when they closed."

"No wonder why you were knackered by the time you came back home."

"It's a wonder I didn't see him waiting by the front door. I was exhausted. I almost went in there and crawled into bed with him. It took some effort to walk up that extra flight of stairs."

"Well, you'd missed him about an hour. He stayed up 'til half ten waiting on you. He acted like he didn't give a tit, but he was always around, waiting for an owl or a howler or something to say you were ok."

Hermione took a sip of her wine, grimacing at the bitter taste.

I continued. "After a while, he was getting worried about you. He called your parents, but they weren't home. When you weren't home by dinner, he nearly called the Aurors to look for you."

"Figures."

"Only reason he didn't is that I told'em I talked with you while he was arguing with Harry."

"But you didn't until after I got home at midnight."

"You're right. But when the prat is complaining to me and not Harry, I figured he's cocked it up. But that's obvious. How'd you work it out?"

"You remember it took a few days for us to disappear, right?"

I nodded, remembering how Ron was a beast those few days until they took off that next weekend.

"I was able to avoid him that week, either from leaving for work before he was up, or staying away until he went to bed, or apparating directly into that room upstairs. But I was sick of not dealing with the problem too."

I nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"I had to decide if it was worth getting hurt again. That was the hardest part. Deep down, he's still the horrible little boy who called me a nightmare and I'm the twelve year old know it all. It's hard to forget those past hurts. You and Harry might think that rowing with him is foreplay but sometimes, our arguments hurt terribly."

"But then he said something, and that was how he coaxed me to open the door."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he was wrong. When he said that, I opened the door."

Hermione took another sip of wine, trying to stay sober. "Once I opened the door, he came in, gave me a hug, and we left. We went to an inn, let a room for a couple of nights and we talked. I mean, really talked. I listened for a long time, not interrupting once. He told me things, and I replied and shared also. When he gets angry, he says things to hurt, like he's playing real life wizard's chess. He doesn't stop to consider that words hurt worse sometimes. I'd rather have a broken bone, since those are easily fixed."

Hermione stopped for a second, taking another sip of wine. She glanced at me, watching my expression for a minute. I knew she was watching, but I was lost watching the fire dance across the logs in the fireplace. She knew me well enough to know I was listening. The fireplace wasn't hooked up to the Floo network, so we didn't worry about being interrupted. In addition, our room was charmed, sealed, silenced, and had a powerful notice-me-not charm on it.

"Well, after talking all night, as well as the next day into the next night, we came to our understanding, and worked it out. It was far from easy, and we both said so many hurtful things. I think I even came close to slapping him once. It took courage to say those things, and even more to listen to them. It took a long time to work through those problems, but we're better for it. Only thing that was for certain was that I don't think were normal again for a month or so. But that's who we are. I don't know if how we worked it out will work for you."

I sat there watching the flames dance in the fireplace. It's so beautiful to watch and considerably more interesting since I drained my glass for a third time.

"I can forgive him for calling me a slag, since he's called me worse when he's had me pinned to a wall. I enjoy dirty talk. But insulting me in front of you, Ron, and Malfoy? I'm mortified. It's bad enough that you heard it. Being called a slag is only one step up from what you've endured. No woman should be called that, especially by her lover in anger. It was a slap in the face, full of disgrace. I won't get into if the family, the team, or the press found out."

Hermione sat in silence, contemplating. She told me many a time during her rows with Ron that she wanted to run instead of talking. The morning of her wedding, she promised me and herself that she would stay and fight instead of running off, regardless if she was right. She owed him that much in addition to their wedding vows.

I had to walk away tonight to give me time to lower the emotional pressure. I love him too much to say something truly cruel and vicious in the heat of the moment. She might stay and fight, but this was the exception to the rule. I knew tonight I made the right choice by walking out. I wasn't ready to throw away everything I wanted over him saying something stupid.

"I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you that you'll work it out, and muddle through it all. People will talk. The only drawback is that the two of you are public figures, and so people will be nosy. That is the unfortunate side effect of all of this mess."

We sat there once again, letting the silence grow. It was quite nice, being inebriated on wine watching the fire trying to muddle through my confusion. Damn Harry for making a mess of things.

I yawned first, feeling the effects of the wine, but she left the couch first. She got up, rolling her neck, and looked down at me where I was curled up. "I'm going to bed. There's two doubles in there, or you can sleep here. Wherever is fine with me. I know you won't keep me company. You say I snore."

I laughed, thinking of how the press would love to get their grubby mits on any pictures of me caught spending the night with my sister in law and best friend. They write the most libelous and salacious things. Ruddy gits. It's not like we've not shared a bed before, on those terrible nights back at school. Too many nightmares were comforted by hugs – hers and mine – to think anything else.

She knelt down in front of the couch and pulled me into a hug. It was so warm and comforting, much like how Mum gives her hugs. English Oak and caramel eyes reflected on one another. "We'll go home when you're ready," Hermione whispered. She then kissed me on the cheek and on top of the head and stood up.

"Thanks."

She left me sitting in front of the fire contemplating what to do next.


	8. Tossing and Turning

Ch. 8 Tossing and Turning

* * *

"Luna, what can I get for you? Another pot of tea? A plate of biscuits?"

"Oh I'm fine. I'm enjoying listening to your story. Please, continue."

Ginny looked at Luna, watching her friend snuggle under the afghan on the back of the couch. She stole a glance at the chair in the corner, catching her sister in law's eye. Hermione shrugged and went back to her reading. _The guys never would understand this, especially Ron. Only your girlfriends can, the ones who comprehend._

* * *

Once Hermione retired for the night, I got into the firewhiskey. One shot of Ogden's Finest following three glasses of wine helped me forget the anger. A second one almost immediately guaranteed I would pass out, too intoxicated to notice the pain.

I'd pay for it. Pay for it I did.

* * *

_Merlin, turn off the drummer in my head._

I sat up wincing from the pain. Nausea greeted me almost immediately, following more pounding inside my head. As horrible as I felt, the pain was welcome. The tap dancing gnomes on my face were a reminder that I was still alive and hadn't cocked up anything yet. Forgetting everything for a short while was such a relief. The pain told me I hadn't said things in anger, any more than what I said at the Ministry. That was a pat on the back, if I wouldn't be sick from the movement. _I should have eaten something with those glasses of wine. Bloody stupid on my part._

I opened my eyes and looked at the clock on the mantle. Half seven. Four whole hours of drunken numbness known as sleep. Brilliant! I'm as sore as if I fell off of my broom.

The room was entirely too warm; I had on entirely too many clothes; and Hermione was in the other room grumbling in her sleep. The couch I slept on wasn't as comfortable or as pleasurable as my bed at home, snuggled into the king sized bed under goose down with an almost naked Harry in it.

I resisted the urge to go curl up in the next room with my best friend. I wanted more sleep, but I also didn't want to get too far from the loo. The war between my head and my stomach was a rough one. I didn't know who would win that one – me retching in the toilet, or falling back asleep. Both were terribly tempting.

It is one thing to prank your best friends in front of others with a kiss and a fondle. It would have been another to wonder what the bloody hell I had done. Merlin knows I've had some wicked fun times when I've been home and inebriated. Harry loves when I get silly drunk. Had I passed out in the bed with her, it would have been very awkward if I couldn't remember what happened. It's not like she'd let anything happen anyway.

Three glasses of wine and two shots of whiskey would make a troll forget.

It's not like I've not done that before, passed out at home with Harry, drunk on firewhiskey while having a party with my brothers. It was awkward at first, waking up in bed with her the first time. The worst of that was waking up to finding my hair a strange shade of green and sugar embedded in my scalp. Percy admitted the sugar, and Harry the green hair. They never tried that again when I put Bat Bogey hexes on their tender bits. It hurt me worse than him to leave it on him since he wouldn't have anything to do with me for a whole weekend. George admitted playing the prank on us that morning. Everyone laughed after Hermione finished with him. I don't think he sat comfortable in her presence for a month.

I rolled onto my side, and felt the dancing garden gnomes traipse all over my head. _That'll teach me to drink Ogden's Finest after wine. I know better than that!_

My stomach still rolled somewhat from the wine and whiskey the night before. I was hungry for bangers and mash, and a plate of eggs with toast. A platter of bacon might be nice too.

I sat up, and felt like crap. I swear I feel like I was beat by Oxmoor's beater brigade!

The previous night's fight came back in startling clarity, making me groan. _Shite. What to do?_ I sat up from the couch, aching body telling me that I didn't get my back rub or my hips stretched out. Both places were competing for which was hurting worse.

I toddled into the en suite. Once glance in the mirror showed my exhaustion, and a nest of hair that will take some effort to fix. A hot shower and I'll be ready for something to eat, the greasier the better.

I brushed out my hair, working through the snarls from sleep. Once the tangles were out, another one hundred strokes made it feasible to wash.

I stripped down to my skin, seeing the scars that remind me of what I lived through. Some were physical, such as the whip marks down my back, or the cuff creases in my wrists. Some you couldn't see, such as what happened the day in the headmaster's office with Neville. Hermione was there the second time I went to use the Prefect's bath. She found me the first time cowering in a corner hallway, crying my eyes out from the flashback of being ambushed. It took months to go the second time, and only with her help was I able to do so. The embarrassment of her finding me cowering like a child was worse than sharing my bath time with her. By then, we knew each other, down to the last scars under the skin.

I finished the shower, putting on a fresh set of clothes I brought with me. It was hot as blazes in the room, but once I step out into the hallway, I'm sure it'll be freezing. Ed keeps the inn chilly outside the rooms. Cheap sod, even if I don't blame him in the least.

A noise draws my attention to the other room. Hermione is as noisy asleep as she is awake. She tosses and turns better than I do on a broom. I stole a glance, and saw that the door was cracked. I padded over to the door and looked in. Hermione was asleep in the small bed, but not sleeping well. One of my best friends was tossing and turning in the cramped bed, kicking madly while thrashing an arm. _I'm not the only one who misses their sleeping partner._ Damn it.

I can't make her stay again tonight. She needs him more than I need her.

I crept into the room, watching her groan from some nightmare. Tears were leaking from her eyes, trapped in a dream and sobbing from the nightmare. _Blimey. I know what's going on. _

I padded to the bed, dropping a kiss on her cheek, and curled into the bed behind her. Her sleep shirt was soaked, twisted on her thin frame. The groans she was making sounded like her throat was raw. I rubbed her shoulders, running my hands up and down the arms. This worked best when she was trapped in a nightmare. It worked on me when I was having one too.

That last year of school, before the nightmares tapered off, I'd have to crawl into bed with her, waking her, and letting her cry on my shoulder for hours before a restless slumber would settle on both of us. She'd wake up embarrassed that she was weak, and we'd have the same discussion we had many a morning.

_You're not weak. No one else has lived through what you did without permanent damage. You survived horrors that most can't fathom. The only ones who came close have been in the closed ward for eighteen years. Being a survivor doesn't make you weak. Going alone does. But you're not alone in this, ever. Letting others help you cope makes you strong. Sharing your pain makes you strong. Trusting us, your friends, helps you heal and grow. Confiding in us, and showing those scars, that makes you strong._

A squeeze on her shoulders was enough to get her to settle down into a more peaceful slumber. Once she was breathing normally again, I gently crawled out from the bed, and went back to the sitting room. I hastily scribbled a note on some leftover scrap of parchment on the table and went downstairs to the pub for breakfast. They make a mean cook up, having had it on many occasions during training camp and the season. The bacon is just like how Mum makes it – thick cut and not quite crispy – and the bread is fresh made every morning. If I can't be home with Mum, this is a good substitute.

I sat down at the booth in the corner, catching the waitress eye. A quick order – my usual one of fried eggs, rashers, bacon and fresh sliced bread, along with a pot of tea, was enough of a start. Few minutes passed before the tea and fresh bread was brought. It was piping hot, and the butter churned and salted. It would do until the breakfast showed up.

While waiting on the champion's breakfast, my mind wandered. _I wonder if I can coax Hermione to eat anything. We'll see._


	9. Bacon gives me flashbacks

**Ch. 9 Bacon gives me flashbacks**

* * *

A/N: My apologies for any typos in this chapter. My beta is locked in Azkaban for the next three months for carrying tampered calming draughts. - DG

* * *

Our eventual return home was pyrrhic. Mum and Dad insisted we stay at the castle after the Battle ended. Bill and Charlie left hours after the battle ended to check the house for any curses left behind by Death Eaters. Good thing they did, since there were nasty traps left behind. Meals, hot showers, medical attention and making arrangements took their toll on all of us.

One day turned into two. I minded, since I still heard crying, both in my head and in my vision. I was ready to be home. Those days were a blur, with and without Harry.

Mom was around the twist the minute we got home. She went and hid in her room for much of the day, but when it came close to dinner, she came out like a maniacal dragon, barking and hissing at everyone present. My brothers ate but not as usual. The meal was just too much: too quiet, too mechanical, too empty. Fleur tried to hide the empty seat at the table, but it was impossible. Everyone noticed, even if nothing was said.

George went to his room, eventually drinking his way to the bottom of a bottle. The only reason I know was because I heard the bottle hit the floor when I went upstairs to get something.

The only one Mum didn't bother was Dad. He was so quiet, exhausted from the first day at the Ministry that he barely ate, then went to bed. He was hurting, yet Kingsley trusted him above everyone else.

He was gone the next morning before I stirred from my place in his chair. Hermione's nightmares kept me out of my own room.

The men were eating us out of house and home, and half would scurry off after breakfast. Bill, along with Charlie and Percy, went to the Ministry daily to help in the rebuilding effort. George stayed in his room, sealed in where only I could go.

Fred's funeral came and went. I don't really remember the day. I don't know if I wanted to remember it. I hated that Harry wasn't at my side. Only Charlie and Percy were there by my side.

The only thing that sticks out was Ron getting up in the middle of the service and stalking out, Hermione chasing after him. He only showed back up later once the food was out.

Mum tried, but she was a mess. She retreated to her room when she wasn't needed in the kitchen. This left the bulk of kitchen responsibilities to me, Fleur, and Hermione. I didn't sleep much – and Hermione certainly couldn't – so I spent the bulk of my insomnia induced early mornings helping bake for the day, and Hermione did the setting and cleaning. Once the meal was laid out for the hungry hoards, Hermione would sit down with her cup of tea and a piece of toast in front of her. Almost every morning, when she left the table, the piece of toast was still sitting on her plate. For a little while, I'd cover for her by eating that toast. Eventually, someone else would. Only when she had bread that wasn't toasted did she eat.

I didn't understand.

I did quite a bit to avoid Mum's temper in those early days. The men were out rebuilding the government and the rest were in their own world. Mum couldn't help. I needed someone I could turn to. Those days, it was Fleur. She still seemed haughty, but she was about the only one in the house who was a help. Fleur was the last person I wanted to turn to. I had no other choice.

Say what you want, but Fleur kept everything going those first few days. Fleur was the only one Mum would listen to. Fleur was also the only one who kept the family from being torn apart. When Mum was in a temper, Fleur stepped in, stood up to her, trying to make her see reason, or retire back to her room to rest. Sometimes it worked, but only sometimes.

The rest of us stayed around the house, either in solitude or helping keep the others fed.

* * *

"'ere now, 'ere's your fry up."

The waitress interrupted at the right time. On the tray was a full English breakfast – fried eggs, rashers and bangers, a plate of hot baked bread, a slab of butter, a second plate for the beans, fried tomatoes and potatoes, and a pot of tea.

"Anything else?"

"I'm fine for now Maggie. Seconds maybe later thought."

Maggie shrugged before turning back to the bar. Silly bint.

I poured a cup of Breakfast tea, and tucked into the eggs and bacon. I love bacon. It gives me flashbacks.

* * *

Fleur watched all of us as best as possible. Mum was a wreck and barely showed up at dinner. So, she kept an eye on us, like a hen. The guys weren't a concern since they were eating enough for a gathering of trolls. Her focus was on me and Hermione.

About a week after we came home, Fleur cornered me and told me that she was most concerned about Hermione. She didn't worry over me since she saw me eating, where Hermione barely touched anything on the table. Her worry was that she wasn't eating at meals, unlike when she was at Shell cottage.

I knew Hermione had lost weight. I could see how her trousers and shirts hung off of her thin frame. She's always been thin, at least as long as I've known her. But Fleur's words of ghoulish and emaciated made no sense.

I scoffed at Fleur's notion – until I saw Hermione changing into sleep attire that night. It was the first night I saw her out of her robes.

Fleur was right. She looked horrible. I didn't intend to gawk, but it was painful to watch Hermione slip into a blue camisole. The pedicles on her back showed distinctly. The scars on her upper back, which had healed somewhat, were still blatant pink against her sun deprived skin. The blades of her shoulders protruded from under the scars, looking like a set of withered dragon wings. The ribs were prominent on her emaciated frame. The tops of her normally feminine hips cut across her sleep trousers, still bruised from a week ago.

Hermione turned, and I gasped when I saw the angry red burn across her chest, from clavicle to under her camisole apparently to her right breast. It was healing, but from the appearance of it, it was healing naturally and not by magic. My anger swelled when I spied the bandage on her neck and the wrapping on her arm.

"Hermione, what the bloody hell?"

Hermione looked up at me, her eyes haunted. "Oh. Sorry. I normally keep them covered where no one'll notice."

She found her hard-earned wand, and cast another concealing charm. Once again, healthy skin showed.

"What happened to you? Who did this?" as I waved my arm in Hermione's general direction.

Hermione finished dressing, and turned once more to look at me. The concealing charm didn't hide the exhaustion on her face, nor the stare that she gave that focused on nothing in the room.

"Blimey Hermione, you're scaring me."

Hermione stood there, looking down at the wand in her hand, fighting the shaking that was gripping her and threatening to win. Without answering, she strode to the cramped camp bed, crawled under the covers, and was asleep in a minute.

I could only stand there in stunned silence. Hermione rarely hid from questions.

I quietly padded out of the room, intending to find Mum. She was in the kitchen drinking tea. I knew Mum was in no condition to help with Hermione, but I had to tell someone. Mum only stared back at me once I finished. I knew then that I had to tell Fleur. I found her in the loo, brushing out her long hair. I did, and Fleur only replied, "When ma petit soeur's ready, she'll tell."

"What do you know, Fleur?" I begged.

She looked at me with those iceburg blue eyes, looking forlorn before turning and walking away to Bill's bedroom.

When I went back to the room, it wasn't fifteen minutes before she was trapped by a nightmare, screaming to tear the house down. Ron was there in moments, calming her down, coaxing her to relax in his embrace.

I didn't sleep that night, in our room or anywhere else in the house. Every time I closed my eyes that night, I heard her screaming yet again. The only way she could sleep at all was in his arms, keeping the monsters away. When Mum made him leave, Hermione would wake yet again either crying, screaming, or in a cold sweat.

That cycle repeated nightly for another week before Ron put his foot down, and Mum and Dad relented.

We all needed our sleep – Hermione most of all. She only got it when Ron was there. That didn't help me in the least when they'd crash in my room – and I'd have to find someplace else to sleep. Usually the couch in the parlor sufficed – but occasionally, I'd snuggle into Dad's recliner too.

The couch was taken. Harry was in it, curled tightly under one of Mum's blankets. Back to the recliner I went.

* * *

The few who stayed – me, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Mum, George - would eat, but then wander off to their rooms, out the Orchard, or away from the house.

The day after Fred's funeral, George took off for Percy's flat in London. He was fed up with Mum making demands and her cajoling. When he left, she hid in her room sobbing for hours.

I didn't know. I was out in the Orchard with Harry, sitting under the trees thinking that day. The only reason I knew was that Hermione mentioned it before bed. No wonder why Mum was in a smoldering temper with me when Harry and I came back in from the orchard.

Or maybe it was that she found me asleep on the couch that morning snuggled in Harry's arms. I didn't realize that he stayed there, keeping me safe and calm, after I fell asleep crying. He was the only one I was comfortable enough around to fall apart. At least she didn't wake me up screeching like a barn owl.

The house was even more quiet, and empty, that night. Three empty seats at the table were too much for her to cope with. Mum barely took a bite of dinner before rushing off to her room for the night. Dad shook his head, finishing his meal. One look on his face told everything – weary, fatigue, anguish. Still, he trooped on. He left the table some minutes later, never returning downstairs.

The next day, the four of us – Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I – left for London. Fleur said she'd stay behind with Mum, doing chores and cooking for dinner. We wanted to check on George – which we did – and then went to Grimmauld Place to see how the house looked. We asked Kreacher to help, and he did, much to his complaint. We worked all day, barely making a dent in the front parlor and the kitchen, before Mum yelled through the Floo for us to come home.

We went back the next morning, via Percy's flat, to check on George. He was passed out yet again, drunk on firewhiskey. We let him sleep and went back to Harry's to continue cleaning. His house was a disaster, and would take some time to clean and remodel it.

The days I was with Harry, at his home in London and at the Burrow were enough at first. Routine was good for the first week: cleaning his house, cleaning ours, cooking meals, up all night due to nightmares. We both had demons to deal with. Between losing Fred and the nightmare known as the sixth year of school, I was having trouble coping. Only Harry really cared. On occasion, Harry and I would go for a walk, not even really talking. Neither one of us were ready for anything else, save the silence we afforded one another. It was hard helping everyone else when I needed time too. Unlike Mum, I didn't feel like I had a choice in the matter.

On occasion, I'd hop a broom and go for a fly too. There was so much yet so little to keep my mind off of everything that first week, even with cleaning Harry's house. You can only do so much in a day when you can't sleep. Between Mum and Hermione, I was desperate to find someplace quiet. The screams in my head were bad enough.

* * *

I glanced up at the stairwell. Hermione hadn't come down yet. Hopefully, she was sleeping. Merlin knows that she needs it. When she has insomnia, she is a troll and a dragon rolled into one. She can hold her temper now, but those early days after the war, when exhaustion was slowly killing her, her temper was as volatile as Ron. Mum certainly didn't understand or help with the matter at the time.

* * *

Everything went sideways two weeks later.

I was in my room taking a needed nap. I had already gone to see George and he was being an inferius. Merlin! He was vicious and nasty, drunk on elf wine or fire whiskey. I wouldn't have minded dealing with him being pissed, but I was already in a foul mood that morning. Choosing George over Mum was painful. I almost stayed, dealing with him, rather than Mum.

Dad and Charlie had gone into the Ministry early again. Bill and Harry were at Gringotts, trying to broker a deal with the Goblins over the break-in. Percy was helping as a ministry liaison. Fleur had left early that morning to do some chores at home, and would be back later that afternoon.

I don't know what started it. All I know is that Hermione lost her temper with Mum.

I heard some of it from the landing near my room. The distance to the kitchen muffled most of the row. I just remember the yelling, Mum and Hermione screeching like two kneazles in a sack. Ron's bellows soon interrupted.

Hermione raced up the stairs to our room, grabbed her beaded bag, and slammed the door in my face. I couldn't get the door unlocked – so I watched her practically running off the property and past the wards. She Disapparated with little fanfare.

I heard Ron yelling again once I got the door unlocked. He sounded like a dragon. I came downstairs and saw Ron running out the door of the kitchen to where Hermione Disapparated, leaving Mum howling at his back in frustration. He took out his bloody Deluminator, holding it in his hand like his life depended on it. He stood there, waiting for something. Within seconds, he stepped past the property line and Disapparated as well.

Mum turned on me, but I raced back up to my bedroom, locking and sealing the door. I felt her pounding on it, trying to break the magic I had on it. Seconds or minutes didn't matter. All I know is that the pounding stopped. I didn't care. I was huddled in the corner, having a flashback from the ambush outside the Prefect's bathroom.

I was abandoned once again. It was irrational, but I was mad at all of them – Harry, Mum, Hermione, Ron, even Fred. The day that Hermione stormed out of the house in a rage, not even waiting on Ron to follow, was the hardest one to cope with.

Dad came home shortly thereafter. He coaxed me to open the door after Mum had a sleeping draught and lay down in their bedroom. He had to get back to work, but would be home in a couple of hours.

"_Ginny, stay with Mummy and keep an eye on her. I won't be gone long. But I have to finish one thing at work before I can get back and deal with this mess. I know she's being a bear at the moment, but just keep an eye on her. I'll find Harry and we'll deal with everything that happened today. Can you do that for me?"_

Dad returned with Harry an hour later. Harry and I went up to Ron's room to get his rucksack packed with a few things, leaving shortly thereafter to go to his house. Hermione had taken refuge in one of the upper bedrooms, and wouldn't let anyone come in. Harry somehow broke through her magic, and we found her curled up in the corner, practically catatonic.

All of us tried to get through to her. Harry tried. It didn't work. I begged. It didn't work. Nothing worked. Ron shared a look with Harry, not saying a word, and the next thing I knew, Harry was pulling me away and out of the room. Ron stayed and we left.

Dinner that night at the Burrow was sedate. Mum and Dad weren't even at the table. Only a remaining few of us were left: Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Harry, and me. Percy came and went before we returned, so Fleur said.

No wonder why Mum wasn't at dinner; too many empty chairs to consider.

Harry didn't stay the night either. Her went back home, and didn't return that night. That was the first night in my own bed in some time, but it was also too quiet, like I was missing my heartbeat.

I think I fell asleep, but I couldn't tell you if it was peaceful or restful.

The next morning, Kingsley came by looking for Harry. He was needed for a deposition at the Ministry. Mum and Dad went to Grimmauld Place to talk with Ron and Hermione. They wouldn't let me come with them. I could have thrown a clock through a window, or some other pointless destruction. Since I was left behind yet again, I went to Percy's flat, intending to keep George company that day.

I got home before they did since George was passed out drunk. Since no one was home, and it was quiet, I went for a fly out above the paddock. It was nice, having some time to myself, no one yelling at me to do chores, or anything else. It didn't last long.

I saw Mum and Dad return. At a distance, everything looked fine – until Dad went to his shed and stayed in there for a while. Mum was a dragon with a sore tooth. She yelled for me to come in and do chores around the house. It's not like the tub needed scrubbing again after I did it three days ago.

Dinner that night was terrible. Mum and Dad, Charlie and I. There was also no sign of Ron or Hermione. Harry didn't come, and neither did Bill and Fleur. It was so quiet at the table. Charlie and I knew what was going on, but didn't have the heart to say anything.

I stopped by to see George the next morning before going to Grimmauld Place. That was a mistake. He was like a hippogriff with a sore wing. I left almost immediately. When I got to Harry's house, they were in the kitchen, drinking tea. Everyone looked exhausted. I was too worn out to ask how the night went. The looks on their faces were told well enough: too many nightmares and too little comfort.

Our next destination was the Granger residence in Oxfordshire. No one bothered to talk. When we walked up to the apparent vacant lot, Hermione removed the protective enchantments on the property. Even under protective magic, someone had gotten through and made a mess of the house. Death Eaters are nothing if not consistent, destroying rather than building. The place was in shambles, from the holes in the walls to the incinerated kitchen. It took all day working on the house to make some progress.

We returned every morning for the next few days to work on it, cleaning and scrubbing and doing as much as possible.

It wasn't perfect, but it would be serviceable until they returned home and more could be done.

A week later, Ron and Hermione left for Australia. I missed them before they even left.


End file.
